


The Price of Gold

by moonbeambucky



Category: Lance Tucker - Fandom, Sebastian Stan - Fandom, The Bronze (2015)
Genre: Angst, Attempted Sexual Assault, Cancer, F/M, Fluff, Gymnastics, Smut, Sports, being drugged
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-05-09 14:59:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 57,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14718300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moonbeambucky/pseuds/moonbeambucky
Summary: As a sports journalist you’ve traveled the world interviewing famous athletes. You’ve loved your job up until you find out your next article is on the last person in the world you ever wanted to talk to, Lance Tucker.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was posted on tumblr for @green-eyeddragonfanfiction Dragon’s 3k Follower Creative Content Challenge. My prompt was “I can’t be in love with you!”

You blink your eyes a few times to wake them up from staring at a computer screen for far too long. You had almost rubbed them with your fingers but thankfully remembered you were wearing makeup and looking like a raccoon is not something you wanted to do, especially not at work.

You were in the homestretch of making edits to your article “In Depth”, a monthly feature you were proud to be writing for over the last year. You had come a long way, writing for your high school’s newspaper to today working for ESPN in New York. Your determination to work in sports journalism led you to leave your home of sunny Florida for the bitter cold of Illinois for college. At Northwestern you honed your skills, covering the various athletic games of your school for their website which ultimately led to an internship at the Northwest Herald. After being hired you spent years working up the ranks until you were offered your position with ESPN. Life was good.

Stretching your arms out you yawned deeply, reaching for your nearly empty mug of coffee, but you were relieved to know that you finished ahead of schedule, and sent it for review. The publishing date for your Lebron James article had moved up significantly since he broke Michael Jordan’s double-digit scoring record.

After a long needed stretch you walked to the kitchen, pouring a fresh cup of coffee before returning to your desk. Sipping on the warm brew you checked your emails, smiling as you replied to Neymar’s agent who was securing dates for your interview with the popular footballer, a trip to Paris on the company’s dime to do so is an added bonus.

This is what made the difference in your writing, the reason why your articles were so popular. You didn’t just interview the athlete, you spent time with them, observing the person they truly were outside of the court, field or wherever they had to be “on”, yet you had a natural way of relaxing them, allowing the person behind the athlete to shine through.

The ringing phone is a welcomed interruption from the computer screen. Alyssa, your editor’s assistant, is calling to ask you to come upstairs. Normally being called into your boss’s office would be panic inducing but you quickly learned that was just how Susan Treston was; she wanted to bring the best out in everyone and would often call people in to brainstorm ideas or give them praise.

The elevator doors opened and you made small talk with Alyssa before she ushered you inside the large office with floor to ceiling windows and a beautiful views of Central Park that always knocked you off your feet. Taking a seat in front of the desk you rubbed the chill off of your arms from the cool air conditioning. Glancing around you looked at Sue’s photos with different athletes, chuckling at the height difference of her and Shaquille O'Neal.

Susan walked in briskly, harshly clearing her throat from a gulp of coffee as she greeted you and sat down.

“Ahh Y/N. I just skimmed over the Lebron James piece. Great stuff!” she complimented.

“Thanks Sue,” you replied, beaming a smile of pride at her comment. “You’ll get the Brady article by tomorrow,” you said with confidence, knowing you were almost through with it, along with a few more that were close to finishing.

Sue smiled back, appreciating all of the dedication you had to your work. “Oh and I think I’ll be packing my bags soon!” you nearly sang, excited at the prospect of going to France.

“Yes that’s what I wanted to talk to you about. You’re from Spring Hill, right?” she asked.

Your head tilted in slight confusion, wondering what your small Floridian hometown had to do with Neymar. “Um yeah,” you hesitantly replied, trying to mask the concern your voice.

“Do you know Lance Tucker?”

Her question halts time, like a car that stopped short by slamming on the brakes, it feels as if your body bounced back against the seat in slow motion. Your heart beat rapidly as queasiness washed over you. Suddenly Sue’s office feels hot, unbearably humid much like the weather you grew up with. Beads of sweat begin to pool around your hairline and your jaw is so tense you feel as if your teeth will shatter. Your heels dig into the carpet as you mull over her question.

Who doesn’t know Lance Tucker? The gold and silver gymnastics medalist whose cocky face was plastered all over Wheaties boxes and magazines alike after his wins, and again in recent times after the controversies surrounding him. But you know what she’s asking, do you know him.

Lance grew up in Spring Hill too and despite wishing otherwise you knew him. At four years old your family moved across the street from him and you became fast friends. You hadn’t seen him since high school, when he left early to focus on training for the Olympics and you haven’t spoken since. You wished the reason was because of the training or his newfound celebrity status after winning but no, your friendship ended before that.

Swallowing the lump in your throat you finally replied, “Yeah, of course I  _know_  him, he’s famous ‘specially for a small town but, uh, I don’t  _know_ him,” you lied.

“You went to Spring Hill High School, like him?” she questioned though it felt more like an interrogation.

Forcing a relaxed expression to help mask your lies you smiled before answering, “Yeah but I don’t think we were in the same grade. I might have seen him in the halls but I don’t really remember, it was so long ago, you know?”

Sue shrugged, seemingly accepting your answer. “Either way, I want you on this one.”  
“I’m sorry, what?” you asked, biting down on the insides of your cheeks as a droplet of sweat ran down your temple.

“Your next In Depth, with Lance Tucker.”

No. This can’t be happening. You repeat that over and over again as you find yourself stuck in a nightmare. Your trip to Paris has been rerouted to Hell, and truth be told you would rather interview the devil because at least you know his character unlike… You shudder at the thought of that man.

You began to explain, and pathetically beg, to her about how much work you’ve put in to making arrangements for the Neymar interview, even telling her about your latest inside tip on how he might be traded. “I can bang out a great story. We’ll be breaking major news Sue!” you tried desperately to sell your idea to her but she shook her head.

“I’ll send Josh on Neymar I need you on this one.”  
“Why?” you attempted to hide the anguish in your question. “Why me?” you practically whined.  
“Tucker is opening a gymnastics facility in Spring Hill.”

Your head tilted in confusion. Lance had quickly abandoned his hometown after winning, moving to Los Angeles to continue his career, his “brand.” He endorsed everything from sneakers to chapstick, opening his own training school and eventually becoming a coach for the US Women’s Gymnastics Team until the scandals hit.

There was a sexual harassment claim and a former student accused him of fathering her child. He was cleared of all accusations and the paternity test proved otherwise but in light of the allegations against US Gymnastics team doctor Larry Nassar Lance was dropped by the Olympics Committee, stating they wanted to bring in fresh talent when in reality they wanted to distance themselves from anyone with negative press attached to them.

Lance had stepped away from the spotlight over the last year, something that surprised you greatly considering that once Lance had the taste of fame he soaked it up like a sponge. He resurfaced briefly a few months ago when it was reported he was making an appeal against the committee’s decision, requesting to be reinstated.

“Sue, I think I’m the wrong person for this. Heather has covered more gymnastics and I think she could…”

“You’re wrong Y/N,” she stopped you mid-sentence. “With the scandals behind him Tucker could still make it in L.A., I want to know the real reason he chose Spring Hill and you’re the best person to get that from him.”

You nod, pressing your lips together, feeling the uncomfortable tension that hung in the air. Your hometown connection is her ticket to getting the story and there was nothing you could do about it. You left her office with a forced smile, resting your forehead against the cool walls of the elevator as you rode down to your floor.

Alyssa would be sending you Lance’s contact information. You have two months until print, knowing if any major news in his case broke sooner so too would your story. As the doors opened you wondered if you should press the button for Sue’s floor again, confessing the truth about your connection with Lance and why you couldn’t do this article. Then again, maybe it would work against you. You prided yourself on your objective journalism, something rare in the media field today.

Your last words to Lance echoed in your head, “I never want to see you again!” You remember the conviction you felt, the fire in your veins, the anger that boiled your blood all masking the sorrow that burned beneath the surface.

“Hey, d’you wanna go to the Knicks game tonight? Chris bailed on me,” the cheery voice of your coworker Heather asked.

Exhaling a sigh you replied, “Wish I could but I have to get started on my next In Depth.” Your response prompted her to ask who the article would be on. Swallowing harshly you say his name for the first time in years, “L-Lance Tucker.”

Heather’s eyes widened, her mouth dropped open in surprise growing into the largest smile you’ve ever seen on a human being. “Holy fuck Y/N! Are you shitting me?” she nearly shouted over the quiet office causing a few people to glare in your direction. “I’m so jealous of you right now!”

“You really shouldn’t be,” you grumbled.  
“Are you kidding? He’s hot as fuck and you’ll be spending so much time with him. Remember when Twitter thought you were hooking up with Steph Curry?”

“Um yeah that was not cool,” you laughed uncomfortably, remembering how many times you apologized to his wife on behalf of the internet and thankfully she understood. “I don’t want anything to do with Lance Tucker,” you stated.

“Why not?” Heather nearly scoffed, the typical reaction one might have considering they didn’t know him like you did.  
“I… I just don’t like him, or gymnastics okay!” you huffed, your emotions beginning to get the best of you.  
“Pffft, well that’s a lie,” she laughed. “We covered Rio together, we went crazy over Simone Biles’ wins!”

“Everyone knows women’s gymnastics are different,” you laughed. “The truth is,” the truth in part at least you thought, “I’m giving up a huge article with Neymar for this. I even asked Sue if you could have this but no, she wants me ‘cause of the ‘hometown connection’,” you quoted with your fingers.

“You’re from his hometown?!” she gasped.  
“Well, yeah, but I don’t know him,” you firmly lied again.

As Heather rambled on about her crush on Lance Tucker your thoughts drifted you away like a cloud, one that was dark and heavy, ready to burst and rain down on the world below. Your history with Lance was in the past and if it wasn’t for this stupid assignment that’s where it would have stayed.

Heather left you to continue working and you stared at Alyssa’s email with Lance’s contact information for a solid five minutes before composing your own email.

The office had nearly cleared out by the time you had finished your email after rewriting it at least fifty times, reviewing it now for the tenth time. You cringed while reading it, the email laced with lies and buffed up language to play to his ego.

_Dear Mr. Tucker,_

_My name is Y/N Y/L/N and I’m a journalist at ESPN. I would be very interested in featuring you and your incredible athletic accomplishments for my feature “In Depth”. I would love to discuss your Olympic wins, the opening of your upcoming training center and of course get a firsthand account of the unjust actions taken against you by the US Olympics Committee. I would be honored to hear from you so we can arrange to meet in person._

_Sincerely,  
Y/N_

The mouse hovered over the send button and with a quick click it was gone. You felt queasy, knowing he was going to get that email. Maybe he wouldn’t recognize your name, you couldn’t be the only Y/N Y/L/N in the world. Yet a link to your biography on ESPN’s website was part of your email signature. If he didn’t recognize your name he would definitely recognize your photo. Even a pompous, cocky asshole like Lance Tucker could never forget his first love.


	2. Chapter 2

Adjusting the headphone in his ear Lance pulls his phone out from his pocket, standing in the center of a construction zone of his newly acquired warehouse, the warehouse he refinanced his own house for and is now in great debt in the hopes of developing into a gymnastics center. Everything is on the line.

Debt is not something Lance ever worried about. By seventeen he won a silver medal for the US Men’s Gymnastics Team at the 2004 Rome Olympics and dove into fame head first where a plethora of endorsements were opened to him. It’s what he needed, seeking out fame like it was oxygen; he depended on it. Hearing praise and adoration from anyone filled a part of himself that was missing, no, the part he lost just before reaching his dream. The stadium was filled with faceless people, all blurs of a crowd that cheered him on, all but one.

That silver medal was worthless, he thought. It didn’t stop the pain, it didn’t fill the void. It wasn’t good enough, he wasn’t good enough. He set his sights on the next Olympics, pushing himself harder than before. His drive and dedication was unparalleled, sculpting his body to be even stronger, a perfect specimen, a God.

Winning the gold would prove that he was the best, that all of the sacrifices he made, everything he lost would be worth it. Four years later in Beijing he stood on the highest platform, proudly displaying what he worked so hard to earn. The gold medal weighed heavily around his neck and Lance would later learn that the price of gold was high.

Seeing the notification of a new email Lance opened the app, smirking when he reads the name of the sender. He held his breath as he read over the message, shaking his head as he could practically hear the sarcastic bubbly overtone in your words and he hated it. You were always kind and friendly but this was a show, this wasn’t you.

***

“Come on Lance,” his mother projected her voice towards his bedroom. “We have to introduce ourselves to the new neighbors,” she said, placing her homemade snickerdoodle cookies in a tin.

Emerging from his room in a white t-shirt with neon geometric designs across the front, light denim jeans with elastic cuffs and chunky white Reebok sneakers, Lance trudged towards the kitchen, huffing as he sat down at the table. He didn’t see why he should go meet the neighbors, that kind of stuff was for adults but his mother grabbed his hand, walking them across the street to the single story ranch home to welcome the family that moved in to the neighborhood.

Running his hands through his mop of fluffy brown hair Lance waited impatiently, rolling his eyes around as his mother pressed the doorbell. Movement caught his eyes and he looked at the front window. In between the vertical blinds was the head of a girl roughly his age staring back at him. She smiled and disappeared. Just then the front door opened and the young girl stood behind a taller woman.

“Hello, may I help you?” the woman asked, smiling to both Lance and his mother though he kept his gaze on the figure behind her. He smiled seeing that the red bow she wore in her hair matched her t-shirt, chuckling as he noticed the brown bear decal on her denim overalls.

“I’m Dorothy Tucker and this is my son Lance. We live right across from you,” she pointed towards the tan house they walked over from, “And wanted to welcome you to then neighborhood,” she finished, handing over the tin filled with cookies.

Your mother introduced you both, inviting Dorothy and Lance inside your home. She offered them drinks, Lance taking her up on a request for lemonade and she prepared small cups for you as well, telling you both to play as she and Dorothy got to know each other.

Finishing your drink quickly you set the cup on the table, making an audible sound to convey that your thirst had been quenched much to the disdain of your mother, though Lance chuckled. Your mouth pulled into a wide grin that showcased your smile, less one tooth in the front.

You and Lance went to your room, where it seemed like all of your toys were unpacked at once and scattered all over. Plush toys lined your bed, beside it was a toy box filled with balls, dolls and Barbie’s thrown about. There was a bright green bin was filled with dress-up clothes and glittery plastic shoes and under your bed were classic board games, including your favorite Candy Land which you insisted part of the rules meant you had to eat candy while playing.

“Wanna play Lego’s?” you asked Lance who nodded in return.

You both sat down on a colorful play rug in the center of your room. Lance watched as you rummaged through the toy box to pull out a container of Lego’s, laughing as you dumped them out in front of him. He glanced at you every time he went to grab more Lego’s, watching how focused you were on building a large house.

Lance had a couple of friends from school, boys mostly. Girls were, well, if he took his father’s advice girls shouldn’t play with boys. Mitch Tucker thought boys should stick together, getting dirty and roughhousing. Girls should keep their Barbie’s to themselves while boys, his son in particular, plays with Transformers and G.I. Joe’s.

Mitch was a “man’s man” as he often claimed, believing that women should stay home and keep house while the man provides for the family. He would frequently give his son bits of his own skewed advice, telling him to stay away from girls. He would absolutely encourage Lance to be a ladykiller later in life, but for now his skinny son needed to toughen up.

Mitch saw Lance as soft and sensitive and did everything in his power to try to stop him from his favorite hobby, gymnastics. He thought it was for sissies and blamed Dorothy for letting Lance spend too much time around girls doing cartwheels.

“Cool!” you said, pointing at the large boat Lance was making.

“Thanks,” he smiled. “So… you just moved here?”

“Yeah my mommy wanted to be closer to my grammy so we bought a new house,” you replied, repeating the information your parents had told you. “Will you be my friend? I don’t have any friends yet.”

You asked him plainly as you focused on making a car to go along with the house you’d built, though Lance heard the tinge of sadness laced in your tone. It couldn’t be easy to be the new kid in town.

“Yeah I’ll be your friend Y/N,” he replied, handing you a pair of wheels he knew you would need.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling back at him.

You had eventually made friends especially once the school year rolled around but Lance would remain your best friend. He was a few months older than you and because of your birth dates he was a year ahead in school but that didn’t stop your routine. His mother would pick you both up after school, providing snacks as you completed your homework at the kitchen table. You both raced to finish so you could have time to play before your own parents came home. Sometimes you stayed over for dinner but you always preferred when Lance came to your house. His dad made you nervous, always raising his voice over little things.

Soon after your mother had to make different arrangements for you after school, signing you up for activities when you could no longer be picked up with Lance. Dorothy had signed him up for gymnastics at a professional school so you were only able to see him at recess and on the weekends when he wasn’t training.

You looked forward to summer vacation because although Lance was still training you had much more time together than when school was in session. You spent every day together, with Lance attempting to teach you some gymnastics, laughing as your backwards roll was always lopsided, or sitting cross legged on the living room floor, playing with the Nintendo your Aunt bought you on the days that tropical storms roared outside.

One day you were swimming together in your pool as your mother kept her eyes on you.

“I’m gonna go to the Olympics!” Lance said as he pushed himself off the wall of the pool and swam before reaching the deep end.

“What’s an oh limp pick?” you questioned, laughing as you dunked your head back to wet your hair, his response slightly muffled as your ears went below the surface of the water.

“Oh yeah well when I grow up I’m gonna be a mermaid!”

“You can’t be a mermaid. They’re not real!”

“Uh huh they are real. I saw them. MOOOOOOM!” you shouted for her, “Tell Lance about the mermaids, we saw them!”

Chuckling under her breath at your response she told Lance she had in fact taken you to see mermaids but she didn’t clarify if they were real or not. You both came out of the water, wrapping towels around you as she brought out a plate of fruit for you to share. A smile graced her face as she watched you together knowing your friendship was special.

A few years had gone by and Lance had begun competing every few months. Though his father hated the sport (not that he ever considered gymnastics as a sport) he was at least able to tell his son the importance of winning despite his coach saying otherwise.

After a long car ride back to Spring Hill Dorothy gently woke Lance who stirred in the back seat of their station wagon. When he saw their driveway he ran out of the car and across the street to your house. Lance was buzzing with excitement as he waited for someone to answer the door. Your dad greeted him, allowing him in before waving to his parents across the street. Lance dashed across the living room, quickly shouting hello to your mother who could only laugh as he ran towards your room.

“Y/N!” he beamed.

Your head shot up looking at Lance, and his proud smile. He held out a ribbon of red, white and blue with a gold medal dangling below.

“I won first place!”

You screamed with excitement, jumping up and down with him. “That’s amazing! I wish I could have seen you,” you pouted. You had asked your parents to go to Lance’s competition but they had plans that day.

“Here,” he said, reaching his arm out towards you, “I want you to have it.”

“Really?” you said, your mouth dropping open in surprise.

Lance nodded back and you wrapped your arms around him for a hug. You grabbed your favorite teddy bear, draping the medal around it and placing it proudly on your bed. Lance’s heart began to swell, knowing how much you’ve supported him over the last few years. Even though you couldn’t be there for his win he knew instantly how much he wanted you to have his first medal.

***

Lance remembers that smile of yours, the way you lit up with pride and joy for his first win. He loved that smile, how it would light up even the darkest rooms and bring him happiness. He swallows harshly, remembering the day that smile faded. He hadn’t thought about it in a while, he didn’t ever want to remember. Memories came flooding back when he returned to Spring Hill, sweet and bitter. He didn’t want to come back here but he had to, and now after everything he’s been through he’s come too far to fail.

He exhales deeply, resigning to the fact that he needs you, or that he needs the coverage you can provide. He doesn’t need you, just like you didn’t need him. Your email was all business, not a single acknowledgement of your history, just the task at hand. So he buries the past away, covering up all of his emotions, bottling the guilt that kept bubbling up at the sight of your name. This was just business he reminded himself as he replied to your email in an equally blunt manner to make arrangements.


	3. Chapter 3

Logging off your computer you look around your desk to make sure things are in order, unplugging your phone charger from the USB port before you grabbed your bag. Heather caught up with you near the elevator, she was still overjoyed for your trip which you needed to get home and pack for.

“When was the last time you went back to Florida?” she asked.

Your mouth pulled to the side as you scanned your memories, “About three years ago, when my parents sold their house.”

They downsized to a condo in St. Petersburg near the water so your father could finally buy a boat and enjoy his retirement. You remember the trip vividly, coming down for a long weekend to assist with packing and finally clearing out your old bedroom.

***

As the cab turned down your block all of the memories of Spring Hill you had left behind suddenly hit, making your stomach uneasy. You couldn’t help but gaze over towards Lance’s old house, shuddering as you pictured the countless times you spent there.

Running inside your house quickly you hugged your parents, choking back tears as you saw how your childhood home was packed away into boxes stacked up in the living room. You looked out to the pool, a luxury you did not have access to in New York.

The pool had been retiled some years ago but otherwise it remained the same. It was the place you could go to de-stress, floating on an inflatable chair as you soaked up the sun’s rays, the place you had fun, laughing with friends as you jumped into the pool, your cannonball causing a huge splash, and all of the times you spent there with Lance.

_“One, two, three, go!” you said, kicking off the wall, moving your arms and legs in tandem as you swam across to the other side of the pool. Reaching the wall you saw Lance had stopped midway. “Come on!”_

_“I… I can’t!” he quivered, swimming back to the starting point of your impromptu race._

_Lance stood up, reaching his arms back on the edge of the pool and pushed himself to sit, his feet dangled in the water as his head hung low. Swimming back towards him you did the same, nudging your wet arm against his. “What’s wrong?”_

_Lance wrestled with his emotions, he was ashamed, feeling too scared to swim in the deep end of the pool. He was ten years old, he wasn’t a baby anymore so why did he feel like one? He wasn’t sure if he was more embarrassed over the fact that he was scared or that you would find out the truth about why he’s insisted on playing games and swimming in the shallow end of your pool. He was certainly glad his father wasn’t there, he would have slapped him, told him to be a man and thrown him into the pool without regard._

_Lance turned to face you, insecurity swirling in the blue of his eyes that matched the water below. The corner of your lips pulled into a small smile matching the tilt of your head, the pleading look in your eyes reminded him that he could tell you anything and so he did._

_“Trust me, I won’t let you drown,” you said, plopping back into the water and reaching your hand out for him to follow._

_With hesitance Lance slowly slipped back into the cold water, swallowing a nervous gulp as he stared at you. Dipping his shoulders below the water he prepared himself to swim but quickly lost his nerve again._

_“Lance I promise. If you panic I’ll help you.”  
Fear took hold of him and Lance nervously chewed his lip. “What if you can’t?”_

_You firmly gripped his bony shoulders, speaking with the conviction of someone twice your age, “Trust me.” You loosened your grip but kept your hands on his cool skin until he nodded, a nervous smile making its way to his boyish face. “Besides, I’m a mermaid, remember? I’m Ariel and you’re Prince Eric.”_

_“But Eric drowned,” he added.  
“Nooo,” you sarcastically said, “He almost drowned but Ariel saved him. So if you drown I’ll save you!”_

_You swam beside Lance, looking over to make sure he didn’t stop halfway or panic. When he made it all the way across he gripped the edge of the pool with one hand, wiping the water off his face. Pulling him in for a congratulatory hug he yelped, not wanting to slip away from the edge where his fingers were turning white with his forceful hold, but despite his minor panic Lance smiled. He was able to swim across because of you._

When entering your old bedroom you were surprised to see how it changed. Your parents had converted it to a guest room and office. Your furniture was in the same spot but now childhood trinkets that previously occupied the space were boxed away in the closet, replaced by decorative items like globes and vases.

It was the boxed items you were there to sort through. Pulling them out of the closet you opened them one by one, coughing as the dust scattered in the air. You made three piles, things to take back to New York, things to donate and things for the garbage.

You set aside some stuff you hadn’t taken during your initial move from home, like old photo albums and your yearbook. You tried on a couple of clothes, and spent more time than anticipated as you read old notes you and your friends had passed during class before throwing them away.

The notes reminded you of the box you had yet to encounter, the one you remembered throwing everything in as tears streaked down your cheeks. There you were, face to face again with it, the Lance box. You stood unmoving, staring it down as if you were in an old Western shootout. Your heart beating rapidly as you faced your enemy, a stupid cardboard box, and yet it had the power to hurt you more than any bullet ever could.

Your fingers itched as you contemplated the box. You could just throw it out, place the whole box outside and never look at it again. It’s not like you needed anything in there, what could you do with Lance’s old shirt? Yet part of you yearned to open it, to travel down memory lane one last time no matter the consequence.

Sitting on your bed you placed the box in front of you, tugging open the folded cardboard to reveal the contents inside. Lance’s shirt was in there, crumbled up and covering most of items. You unfolded the wrinkled shirt of Bugs Bunny and Taz in streetwear, laughing at the memory of the ridiculous trend. Tossing the shirt into the donation pile you looked down at the box again and you lost your smile.

An endless pile of photos of you with Lance stared back at you. You flipped through them quickly, not wanting to linger too long on the memory of each. The rest of the box was filled with random things, old notes, movie ticket stubs and even some old McDonald’s Happy Meal toys. Your heart sank however when you looked at your old teddy bear with Lance’s first gold medal around his neck. You remember how proud he was, not to have earned first place in the competition, but to give it to you just to see the smile on your face.

Tears stung at your eyes and you felt that was your cue to stop. You threw the photos back in, not bothering to move the toys to the donation pile, you wanted this box closed and thrown out. You hugged the bear, feeling the cold medal press against your skin as you silently said goodbye. A pang of guilt rang through you for placing the bear in the box with the rest of the memories to be thrown away. The dark plastic eyes of the bear stared back at you, silently screaming its innocence. You knew the bear had done nothing wrong and yet you couldn’t separate it from the memories of Lance. A tear slipped out, running down your cheek as you sealed up the box and brought it outside.

Your mother recognized the box you carried and questioned if you wanted to throw it out. You scoffed at her.  _Really?_  She knew what happened and she has the audacity to question if you want to keep these memories? You grabbed large garbage bags to take back into your room for the donation pile, insisting you did not want or need anything in the Lance box.

After finishing your own items you helped your parents pack away the last of their things before you said a final goodbye to the place you grew up in. Your dad was ready to drive you to the airport, taking your suitcase to the car as you and your mother finished saying goodbye. She glanced over towards the large pile of garbage, her lips pressing together into a tight line as she eyed the box you had thrown out.

“Dorothy still lives there you know,” your mother said.

Your shoulders slumped down at her words, exhaling a heavy sigh. You were headed back to New York and with your parents moving you would never be back in Spring Hill again. If there was any time to say hello to Dorothy Tucker it was now.

“I can’t see her mom,” you said, struggling to keep your voice from faltering. It broke your heart to say it, Dorothy was like a second mother to you but after Lance that was all over.

Your mom wrapped her arms around you, rubbing your back comfortingly before you got into the car with your dad, saying goodbye to Spring Hill forever.

***

Your apartment was upside-down as you packed for your trip. Two weeks. You’re scheduled– no, being forced into spending two weeks with Lance Tucker. Two days would have been enough for the story as you insisted to Sue, though two minutes would be too much for your liking.

With headphones in you dial your parents, slipping your phone into the pocket of your hoodie as you roam about the apartment gathering things together to pack.

“Hey mom. How’ve you been?” you said, waiting for her response. “Yeah I’m good. I’m actually coming to Florida… Yeah an assignment,” you answered her, stopping in your tracks as she asked who you would be interviewing.

“I can’t say yet,” you lied, a trait you’ve been doing a lot lately.

You didn’t want her to rehash the past. Your mom had been the biggest supporter of you and Lance, and though she was there to comfort you at your lowest point she also encouraged you to talk to him. She knew you were hurt but she didn’t think you should lose each other over what happened. Lance was immature but so were you, making a snap decision to end everything instead of talking through things. Your mother saw the big picture and she always thought you would end up with Lance, watching you grow up together, seeing your friendship blossom into romance, she was just as hurt when it ended.

“Maybe we can get together on my birthday,” you suggested as it would occur during your trip. You were hoping to get away from Lance for a bit to see your parents, anticipating yourself becoming upset by having to see him.

“Oh honey, if Dad and I knew you were coming down we would have switched our cruise,” she fretted.

“It’s alright, this was last minute,” you sighed, trying to hide the disappointment in your voice, “I forgot about the cruise, where are you headed?”

You finished packing as your mom excitedly discussed her upcoming trip. You pulled your suitcase next to the front door, staring at it with disdain. You travelled quite often for this job spending more time out of the office than in it, looking forward to every trip up until now.

Landing in Tampa you felt the heat the moment you stepped off the plane. The sun was stronger than you remembered, especially for the morning. You made your way to the transportation floor, having previously arranged a car service to pick you up for the drive to Spring Hill.

You felt overdressed as you walked through the terminal, seeing groups of people in casual clothing, shorts and flip flops. You would be making it to your hotel with just enough time to check in, drop your things off in your room and meet Lance for your interview so you had dressed accordingly, a beige pencil skirt and blazer with a sleeveless rose colored blouse and matching heels.

As your driver kindly placed your suitcase in the trunk you took off the blazer, folding it neatly beside you. You pressed yourself back into the cool leather seat of the car, shutting your eyes to try and focus. You felt your stomach twisting itself into knots the closer you got to your destination. This was really happening and you dreaded the thought.

After arriving at your hotel you had a few more minutes to spare than expected so you quickly brushed your teeth, reapplied your lipstick and made sure you smelled good, not for his sake of course. You grabbed your bag and laptop, looking over yourself once more in the mirror, smoothing out your skirt and blazer.  _You can do this._

Lance had suggested meeting at a restaurant for the interview but you insisted meeting him at your hotel. Not that you were really keen on the idea of him knowing exactly where you were staying but you hoped things might progress faster if you just got right to business, not wanting to make any nostalgic detours if you ventured anywhere else with him. You were also hoping that the buffet area of this lovely Holiday Inn might make him a little uncomfortable, and thus concluding your time together at a much faster rate.

A wicked grin spread across your face as you entered the area. A deep red carpet with a muted gold design spread across the floor with an array of cheap wood tables complimented by green vinyl cushioned chairs surrounded the area. Generic artwork of flowers in vases hung around the room.

You marveled at how the hotel looks lost in an undetermined time, not quite the ‘90s and yet not quite modern either. It was the perfect setting to make Lance Tucker itching to get this over with, as you’d be subjecting the pompous “God of Gymnastics” to the meager value hotel graciously provided by your job.  

Only one table is occupied, by a family of four whose exhausted parents look like they have been drained of their energy and can no longer attempt to calm their rambunctious children.  _Perfect!_  You leave a table in between yourself and them, not wanting to be too obvious with your plan. You grab two bottles of water, specifically Zephyrhills, Florida’s “unique” tasting water, setting them down on the table, though you wished you could replace yours with Vodka to get through this.

 _Be short, be curt. Stick to the facts. This is business. Just business_ , you reminded yourself as you waited for his impending arrival.

Lance had an agenda as well as he had felt the bitter cold of your words during your correspondence to set up this interview; you had clearly not forgotten the past. Lance hated thinking about the past. He threw himself into being the best, gaining the spotlight, seeking the attention of others when deep down he just wanted to yours. He spent plenty of nights alone with his thoughts, regretting what he did, what he didn’t do and what he should have done. But that was the past.

His future was uncertain in many ways and he had become too wrapped up with something that weighed heavily on his mind to worry about your hatred of him. So he decided to put on a show, be Lance “The Fucker” Tucker as he was previously regarded as. If you continued to hate him that would make this easier, you would write your article on him and he would get the attention he needs for his gymnastics center.

His plan was easier said than done because the moment he caught a glimpse of you sitting at the table, standing out like a diamond amongst dull rocks, he almost broke down. He wanted to run to you, throw himself at your feet as apologies spilled from his mouth, pouring out as fast as the tears that threatened to fall.

He moved back, hiding behind a wall as he regained his composure.  _Remember Lance, remember the plan._  He began to sweat, unzipping his blue track jacket to reveal a crisp white t-shirt. He drags his hand down his face wiping harshly at his skin.  _Remember._  He erases his frown with a cocky smile, putting on his sunglasses, unnecessary for the fluorescent indoor lighting. With his shoulders up and his back stiffened he takes a few deep breaths before walking towards you.

Lance strides in confidently, swaying towards the table as his voice catches your attention, “Well, well, well, look who’s back in town.”

Suppressing an eye roll (and a profanity) you bite your tongue, scrunching your nose at the overpowering amount of cologne he wore. Forcing a tight smile you remain seated but gestured for him to join you at the table.

“Thank you for meeting me Mr. Tucker, I–”  
“Cut the bullshit Y/N. Let’s get down to why you’re really here,” he smirked.


	4. Chapter 4

Your head felt fuzzy and clouded and for a moment you wanted to blame it on jet lag until you remembered that didn’t apply in your case. You looked at Lance incredulously as you sat back in your chair, staring at the face of a man who just said the most ridiculous thing you had ever heard.

Lance had certainly grown up, shedding his baby face for a chiseled jawline, his lips still pink and soft looking from the overzealous amount of chapstick applied to them. His eyes were hidden by dark sunglasses he wore indoors, like a douche. The face you hadn’t seen in person in nearly fifteen years was smirking back at you. The man you tearfully departed from because of his arrogance had the nerve to say what he just did.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you scoffed. “You really think I’m here to get back with you?!”

Lance grinned even more, raising his eyebrows above his shades as he shrugged.  _Wow._  That’s all you could say and think as you blinked in absolute shock.

“Once you’ve had a piece of Tucker’s gold you always come back for more.”

You restrained your hand, wanting to slap the cocky smirk off his face as he bit his lip in what was supposed to be a seductive manner, thinking to his aforementioned “gold.” After his win in Beijing he celebrated the height of his career with a tattoo resembling the ribbon on his victory medal that you’ve seen in paparazzi pictures, peeking above his low slung board shorts while surrounded by beautiful women in barely there bikinis on a yacht off the coast of France.

You felt him undressing you with his eyes behind his dark shades, as his tongue came out to wet his lips. You suppose his “charm” has worked on others but the Lance’s tacky tattoo and his inflated ego only added to the reasons of why you were truly here.

“Let’s get one thing straight, I’m here for business, not because I want to be, okay? So the sooner you start talking the sooner I can go home. So get your massive head out of your ass and get to it,” you huffed.

You opened your laptop, focusing on the screen as you brought up a document to begin typing out notes. Your fingers pressed furiously against the keys as you clenched your jaw, breathing through your nose in sync with your rapidly beating heart.

Lance cleared his throat not once, not twice, but six times before he began coughing in a Razzie Award winning performance of the worst fake cough you had ever heard. Even the woman sitting a table away side eyed him as he carried on in what had to be an attempt for your attention. Without looking away from your screen you leaned forward, shoving a water bottle in his direction before sitting back as you connected to the Wi-Fi.

Lance audibly scoffed, “I’m not drinking this,” he said, shoving the bottle back in your direction. The bottle skid across the table, rolling towards the edge before your hand stopped it.

“What? Does this not meet Mr. Tucker’s standards?” you said, crossing your arms over yourself.

Picking your head up you noticed he had taken his sunglasses off at some point and your breath got caught in your chest. Those eyes, beautiful blue, clear as the ocean, sparkling even in the terrible lighting of this Holiday Inn. Lance may be an asshole, but he’s an asshole with beautiful eyes.

“That water is gross and you know it Y/N. We never drank that shit,” he said.

 _We._  It stood out to you that he said “we”. He remembered the times you would look at each other making gross faces to make each other laugh any time someone had Zephyrhills water. You would ask for anything else instead, juice, soda, clam juice! Okay, maybe not clam juice but almost anything instead of Zephyrhills.

However, Lance was getting on your nerves and in an effort to show him how much you wanted to distance yourself from anything to do with him you twisted open the water bottle, drinking a huge gulp off the odd water in spite of him. Doing your best to mask your truly disgusted expression you held your gaze with him as you let out a refreshing “Ahh” and Lance shook his head to laugh.

You were momentarily taken aback by his laughter, the pleasant sound that played like music throughout the room. It was a comforting sound that had been absent from your life for so long it awoke an addiction within you and you felt yourself desperately craving to hear it again.  _No!_ You scolded yourself, you can’t live in the past.

Getting down to business you asked a few starter questions, they were generic, something most interviewers would ask someone like “How did you get into (insert sport)?” It was an easy way for the athlete to open up, answering questions they’ve been asked a million times before. Once you got them comfortable you would gradually open up to different questions, asking about their childhood, favorite movies, anything that would help you discover the things that helped shape them into the person they are today.

The trouble you realized as Lance was answering, is that you knew most of the answers. You knew the story of Lance and his mom watching the 1988 Olympics in Seoul together, how the three year old began to do somersaults around the living room because he wanted to be like the gymnasts. How he begged his parents to sign him up for gymnastics lessons, though Mitch objected, wanting his son to join a little league baseball team. Wrapped against his mother’s frame Lance cried his eyes out, drenching Dorothy’s neck as she held him close until he exhausted himself into sleep. Dorothy fought with Mitch that night, the first of many arguments to come until he conceded and Lance was promptly enrolled in gymnastics.

You knew that Lance loved  _Jurassic Park_ , and that the Gremlins scared him but his favorite movie of all time was  _E.T._  You knew he slept with a stuffed lion doll that his dad tried to take away from him when he was nine, telling him it was time to grow up. You knew his favorite pizza toppings and his hate for strawberry milk. Your heart began to hurt, sighing at the memories of Lance that were running through your mind.

You knew him but that was a long time ago. The boy you knew became lost in the stranger who sat in front of you today, the man who left everything behind him once he reached his goals. The shrill sound of one of the children screaming focused your attention back to the task at hand; here Lance was, back in his small hometown of Spring Hill, Florida and you needed to find out why.

“Listen,” he began, “I can’t do this.” He gestured to the kids who continued screaming in protest of the lunch they refused to eat. “We should go somewhere quiet like…” he thumbs his chin as he thinks, wearing a smirk, “Like my hot tub.”

“Not happening,” you firmly said, slamming your laptop down.  
“If you want this interview you’ll do things my way.”  
“I guess we’re done then,” you snap back, grabbing your things as you stomp towards the elevator.

Lance gets up quickly following behind, grabbing your arm gently but pulling you back nonetheless. “Get off me!”

“Look sweetheart, you may say ‘you’re done’ all you want but you and I both know I’m the last person you’d want to interview,  _meaning_  this is part of your job. I doubt your boss would let you come back without a story.” He paused to read the expression on your face, the frustrated look that is proving him right. “So we’re gonna do this my way.”

“I’m not stepping one foot in your fucking hot tub,” you insisted.  
“Fine. Eight o’clock, I’ll pick you up, wear something nice,” he demanded before putting his sunglasses back on, turning on his heels and leaving the building.

You were thankful to be alone during your elevator ride back up to your floor as you grunted and stomped around, anger bubbling within you until you could let the all the steam out in your hotel room.

Hours later you were looking at the clothes you packed. “Something nice” in Tucker terms meant something skimpy and so you did the opposite, wearing a dark grey top with a high neckline under a black blazer and matching pants. Your outfit mirrored the personality you tried to have around him, cold.

You were a few minutes early waiting outside of the hotel for him, your head looking down at your phone as you caught up on your notifications, your parents posting every photo of their first day of the cruise, a few events you were invited to and the random posting of friends on your social media accounts.

An obnoxious car horn wiped the smile from your face as you knew who had just arrived. With one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his phone Lance waited for you to get into his red convertible Mustang, speeding off the moment you shut the door, not even waiting for you to put your seatbelt on. Asshole.

“I thought I said to wear something nice,” he shouted over the wind as he weaved in and out of traffic.  
“This  _is_  nice.”  
“For winter,” he retorted.

You made face back at him, your tongue partially sticking out. Was it childish? Maybe. Okay, it was childish but you were positive he didn’t see it… though he was smirking.

As Lance drove you passed a few landmarks of your childhood, like the Winn-Dixie your mom would frequent for groceries or the bowling alley you had a few birthday parties at, with Lance at your side. Finally he pulled up to a large building, an orange glow highlighting the parking lot that was empty except for one car with a young man standing in front of it, peeking his head up from his phone when he saw the headlights flash.

Lance parked the car quickly, without saying a word to you as he went towards the man. From the distance you heard him utter an apology, then observing the transaction of Lance handing the man some money in exchange for a bag.

“Have a good night man,” Lance said as the guy got back in his car. “Food came early,” he said to you, answering the question you hadn’t asked but he knew you probably wanted to as he went to unlock the door.

You quirked your head at him, shocked at a few things, firstly being that Lance had apologized to someone. It wasn’t in his nature, not in a long time at least. When Lance was in the spotlight he was an arrogant prick, one of those celebrities who demanded to be let in to every hot spot, expecting people to give in to his every command.

Yet he surprised you in more ways than one. After his hot tub joke, you hoped it was a joke at least, you were not sure where you’d be heading tonight but it seems Lance brought you to his gymnastics center. You waited in the doorway until the lights came on, blinded momentarily by the bright LED’s.

Stepping further in you stood in the middle of an unfinished space, the walls opened to its framing with stacks of drywall leaning against it, yet to be installed. Lighting fixtures were dangling down from the open ceiling, buckets of spackle and paint and an array of tools set to the side, a scent of chalk and dust filled the air. Lance told you to be careful, even extending his hand out as you carefully walked across the tarp covered floor in your heels, as you followed him into another room.

Flipping on a light switch Lance smiled with pride as the main floor of his gymnastic center was revealed. The open floor space was complete, crisp white walls surrounded the giant space with the red logo for Tucker Gymnastics painted on the largest wall.

Standing on a blue carpet you followed the path that led to the different areas. Thick padded mats were underneath various equipment like the balance beam, uneven bars and pommel horse. There was a large area for floor work and two runways for the vault, one with a foam block filled pit behind it. The open ceiling exposed the steel framework of the building and necessary ductwork, the large air conditioning unit is a must for anyone who would be exerting themselves in the Florida heat.

Lance stood there with a smile on his face, it was small but proud without a hint of conceit, he was just happy to show off his hard work. “It’s almost done,” Lance said, breaking the silence. You turned to face him as he continued speaking, “Just a couple more things to hang in here, waiting on some more equipment to come in.”

“It looks great,” you admitted as you looked around some more, missing the way Lance’s mouth had curved into a wider smile.

He quickly turned around as you turned to face him again, leading you back to the unfinished entry room. “My office is clean, we can eat there. Food’s getting cold,” he said as he turned the lights off to the main area.

“What did you get any way?” you asked, as your stomach began to rumble.

Lance grabbed the bag and began walking, “Chinese. Hope that’s okay,” he responded.

You followed him, passing two large unfinished spaces until you were in his office in the back.

“You still like scallion pancakes right?”

You nodded then hummed as you realized he wasn’t paying attention to you as he unpacked the food onto his desk. His office was small and bare, just a desk with his chair and two more in front of it, and an empty bookcase. Surely his gold medal would be on display once the gym was open. Knowing Lance it would be intricately framed with a special spotlight hung above it to highlight it’s presence to all.

“I hope you got me more than that,” you joked, finding it somewhat obnoxious that Lance had ordered dinner without asking you but you were happy he ordered one of your favorite dishes.

If someone told you that you’d find yourself with Lance Tucker, eating Chinese food in awkward silence in an almost finished gymnastics center you would have never believed them. Yet here you were, slowly reaching out to grab one of the appetizers, dipping it in soy sauce before taking a bite.

“Oh shit,” Lance said abruptly, putting his food down and pulling out two bottles of water he had forgotten in the bag.

You burst out laughing, covering your mouth so food did not escape as the bottle of Fiji was placed in front of you.

“What?” Lance asked, chuckling at your reaction.  
“Nothing,” you smiled, wiping your mouth with a napkin before opening the water.  
“S’good, huh? Much better than that other garbage,” he said, smirking.

The water was more than good; it was like drinking from a sacred body of water, it nourished and healed every cell within your body as it blessed you with its smooth and crisp taste. This was not water, it was the drink of the God’s.

You said nothing as you gulped it down, Lance giving you an “I told you so” face.

You continued eating, Lance breaking the silence with occasional questions about the food to see if you were enjoying it. You commented on the difference of Chinese food in New York, telling him about amazing places you’ve been to in Flushing, Queens that blow every takeout place out of the water.

Lance held back from asking a question, it was a question he already knew the answer to. He wanted to ask how the food in China compares since he knows you’ve been there, interviewing Sun Yang after the 2012 Olympics. After he received your email Lance had looked you up, reading your Tweets that mainly pertained to work and checked out your collection of articles on ESPN’s website. He kept quiet instead, not wanting to get into the fact that he looked you up. He Facebook stalked you too, another secret he’ll store away, though your private page did not allow him access to what’s been going on in your life.

“Why are you being so nice?”  
Your question snapped him back to reality. “Huh?”  
“You were being a huge dick before.”

Lance could have used this moment to apologize, for his behavior earlier today, for how he acted years ago. Instead, he got nervous, he was put on the spot and so he responded as irrationally as possible. “Well if you want a huge dick…” he raised his eyebrows up suggestively as he took a bite of his meal.

“Forget I said anything,” you huffed in frustration. “Look, I just want to interview you and get out of here okay?”

Lance swallowed his food and grabbed his water, watching his prominent Adam’s apple bob put you in a momentary trance that you quickly dispelled.

“Ashamed of your roots?” he quipped.  
“Excuse me?” you shot back, in disbelief of his words.

He wiped his mouth one last time, tossing the used napkin into his container of food. “You’ve always hated this place. Said you can’t wait to leave.”

“Yeah, well I was an immature kid who said a lot of things,” you thought as your mind drifted away.

_After a long day you, your parents and Lance were in the car headed home. You spent the day at Walt Disney World, running around the Magic Kingdom in the hot sun though relief came when the four of you splashed down at the end drop of Splash Mountain. Laughter was never absent from your trip, it was a great day you would always remember._

_Music from the radio became background noise to your conversation as you and Lance sat together in the back seat of the car. Your parents had been occupied by their own chat, missing the sickeningly sweet words you and your best friend shared._

_“I’ll always be your friend, even when we’re old,” you said, looking at Lance whose sun kissed cheeks stood out even in the dimmed atmosphere.  
“And when my hair is grey and I have warts on my hands–”_

_You interrupted his speech with a fit of giggles, “Ewww.”  
Lance laughed as well and then continued, “I mean it. I’ll always be your friend too.”_

“I left Spring Hill for opportunity,” you stated.

It was normal, you reminded yourself. You could have gone to college locally but none of them had a good journalism program. You worked hard, got a scholarship and busted your ass in school. Who is Lance to talk any way? He left high school early to train full time for the Olympics. He’s the one who left this place.

“So did I but I came back!” he snapped, interrupting your inner monologue.

Fed up with his attitude you couldn’t hold back anymore, shouted back at him, “Yeah and why is that? Why come back here after everything?”

Purses his lips together into a tense half smirk Lance leaned forward over the desk, “I’m betting that’s what you’re here to find out.”

With a stern look on your face you moved closer as well, “Or you could just tell me.”

Lance held your gaze, seeing the fire burning in your eyes, dropping his own down to your lips. The sight of your jaw clenching coerced his tongue out to wet his lips before he brought his piercing blue eyes back to yours.

“Now where’s the fun in that?” he whispered as his voice dropped an octave, running down your spine as you struggled not to squirm.

You stared at him a bit longer, studying his cocky face. He wasn’t going to make this easy for you and you weren’t just talking about the article. Seeing Lance again brought up so many feelings, the bad mostly as you tried to remind yourself but you couldn’t help but think of the good, part of which included his drop dead gorgeous looks.  _Remember Y/N, remember what happened. Y_ ou forced yourself to push Lance out of your mind, building a steel wall around your heart.

Pushing yourself back in your chair you crossed your arms over your chest, “Fine. So let’s talk about your favorite subject then, you.” Lance sat back as well, tilting his head to the side as you continued. “Everyone knows about the wins, I want to know what happened after.”

Lance asked you to clarify your question. “At twenty-one you won a gold medal. Your win brought victory for the US Team.”

“I’ve always known there’s greatness inside me…” he began, smiling as he reminisced on his achievements.

“So what the fuck happened?” Your question made his expression drop. “You were on top, had endorsements, partied with the best of them in Hollywood, had your own school, became head coach for the women’s team. All this before you were thirty and then, poof,” you said, miming your hands to go along with your words.

Lance’s jaw clenched at your actions. “So what do you want to hear? Some inspirational story about achieving your dreams and then having it taken away because of shit you didn’t do?”

You heard the sarcasm in his tone and the anger lying underneath it. “The scandals happened. You were kicked off by the Gymnastics Committee.”

“Wrongfully,” he added.

“Right, and you’re fighting it  _now._  The Lance Tucker that I–,” you paused to clear your throat and rethink your words, “That the world knew, wouldn’t give up so easily why did you? Why disappear and why resurface now? Why Spring Hill?” you demanded, slapping your hand on the desk.

Lance’s heart had begun to pound rapidly in his chest, as he was painfully reminded why. He struggled with wanting to tell you everything but he couldn’t, not yet. He was too stubborn to let his guard down and even though he could use a friend he wasn’t sure that’s who you were anymore.

“It’s late,” he said, standing up and gathering the empty food containers to throw away. “We’ll continue this tomorrow.”  
Standing up again you defiantly asked, “Who says I’m seeing you tomorrow?”

“I know how this works,” he began. “You follow your subject around until you have enough for your article.”  
“You looked me up?” you questioned as you followed him towards the exit.

“No,” he lied, locking up the building, “But I read about the journalist that fucked Steph Curry and saw it was you.”

Your hands balled into fists that you wanted to pound into Lance’s stupid face. You clenched them tightly instead; somehow from regions beyond a voice of reason came through telling you it would be wrong to hit him no matter how much he deserved it.

“No I didn’t,” you firmly said, “And either way my personal life is no one’s business,” you shared a knowing look as you squinted at him, anger and hurt bubbling in your chest.

The ride back to your hotel was silent, a stray tear rolled down your cheek but you were thankful you were able to casually wipe it away without Lance noticing. He was preoccupied with driving, chewing his lip in frustration as your words had struck him deeply. Sooner or later he would have to face his actions.


	5. Chapter 5

You spent most of the night tossing and turning, uncomfortably reliving more memories involving Lance. Getting out of bed earlier than expected you used the in room coffee maker to brew a cup, drinking it outside on the small balcony your room provided. The morning sun began its ascent and it was already warm. Scrolling through your phone you took sip of coffee in between responding to Tweets and messages. It was a nice moment of peace that you wanted to stretch for as long as possible but knew you couldn’t. Lance was going to pick you up midmorning and you needed to get ready. 

Since you woke up early you were able to spend more time in the shower, first letting the hot water relax your aching muscles and doing your best to rinse out all of the shampoo with the less than perfect water pressure. Eventually you lessened the heat now letting the cold water refresh your hot skin.

With a towel wrapped around your body you checked to see that you still had plenty of time, turning on the news as you slowly did your makeup. When it came time to get dressed you opted once more for professional clothes, dark grey pants, a short sleeved light grey top with polka dots and red heels for a pop of color. You were overheating in your blazer yesterday and the weather report stated it would be hotter and more humid today.

When Lance picked you up you were greeted with a quick hello before he made a comment about your missing blazer. You responded by rolling your eyes, buckling yourself in and huffing out a heavy sigh. It was going to be a long day.

You accompanied Lance on a few errands he made for the gym, stopping to buy office supplies like printer paper, folders and pens, and some other basics he would need. Stopping in a small café you ordered an iced coffee, insisting on paying for yourself when Lance offered to do so, it reminded you that you had forgotten to make the offer to pay for your dinner last night and you certainly did not want to be in any more debt to him.

During your time together Lance mostly ignored you, and you were mad at yourself for feeling hurt. It was stupid, this was part of your job, you were supposed to disappear to watch as the true person underneath the athlete exterior could shine, for better or worse. You couldn’t understand why this was upsetting you so much.

Lance had chosen to focus on work, this way he could keep his mouth shut and not say anything more stupid things that might upset you. He too had kept himself up most of the night, chastising himself for always saying the wrong things to you. He wished he could make things right but it was too hard. You deserved it though but at the moment he couldn’t do it. He was exhausted, mentally and physically, having to drive to his mother’s place after dropping you off. He called to check in and upon hearing her panicked voice he raced over there.

Dorothy was upset, she had left the stove on and couldn’t remember how to turn it off. Lance fumed with anger wondering where her aide was until he learned she had stepped away to use the bathroom. He couldn’t fault her and thankfully nothing happened. His mom was supposed to be asleep but she got up and was confused, forgetting that she already had dinner and decided to make something. It was an unfortunate side effect of the radiation that was supposed to be helping her.

Lance went home, on edge even more, worried about his mother and when he was going to lose her. The moment she was diagnosed all “ifs” went out the door. Her fate was certain, Lance’s was not.

His future was undetermined, the school could fail, his appeal could be rejected, you… well he already lost you once but now you were back and he had to wonder if there was a reason. Given your interactions it seemed like you wanted nothing to with him. Nevertheless, he promised himself that no matter what, before you leave he would apologize.

Lance made a few calls, mostly surrounding the opening of the gym, talking to a woman named Laura, who you had deduced was an instructor he hired, about getting together before the center officially opened. Lance was also fielding calls and emails from the parents of students who wished to enroll their children.

It was a lot of work for someone to be doing on their own, it didn’t appear that he hired someone for administration yet. Lance kept his cool though, not letting the pressure of the grand opening scheduled in ten days for a place that was still under construction get to him.

For the first time you saw Lance as an adult, handling stressful calls and tasks and managing them to the best of his ability. You watched him grow frustrated when his contractor told him the sinks they ordered ended up being too large for the bathroom. Lance grimaced but kept his cool, asking if new ones could be received in time for the opening.

This was a new side of him, having remembered him as a teenager who didn’t have time for a job because he was too busy training. He was always focused on gymnastics, setting a few hours a day for homeschooling. Dorothy didn’t like the idea of Lance leaving high school but she knew how important this was to him. She recognized her son’s talent, was encouraging every step of the way and sacrificed everything to give him the opportunity to reach his goals.

You entered the gym again, seeing the front entryway had transformed overnight. The dry wall was up and spackled, ready for paint, the ceiling was put it with the lighting fixtures hanging securely. The floor was also installed though the tarp remained over it.

Lance inspected the work, nodding in approval as he and the head contractor stood in the large area that would become the bathroom, going over measurements again. Lance ran his hands through his hair, it seemed things would be cutting it close in time for the opening.

Speaking of, Sue had asked you to write a quick blurb for the website since the opening would occur during your trip. She informed you of this in an email you received earlier when she asked how things were going. You lied of course, not wanting to cause her to panic, you’d get your story no matter what, and although the opening of Tucker Gymnastics would be part of your article, writing something quick about it wouldn’t be an issue. It’s not like the event was a secret, local news outlets were prepared to be there for their “Hometown Hero.”

It was late in the day and the crew had packed up and left. Lance was still on the phone so you awkwardly strolled through the gym, your hand running along each piece of equipment that reminded you of times when you went to watch Lance’s compete. After missing his first one you never wanted to miss them again, dragging your parents to take you when they were local or tagging along with Lance and his family for a road trip to the larger competitions.

Lance was the talk of the town after winning his silver medal, a performance you tearfully watched on TV. You were so upset with him and yet part of you was still proud to see him standing up there. He had a blank expression on his face, with his lips curving into a smile, one Lance had to force himself into, later explaining in interviews that he was still in shock. By the time he won his gold you had long forgotten him and the Olympics, spending your summer abroad after graduating college, on a trip your parents thankfully helped contribute to.

Your phone rang and you dug it out of your bag, smiling when you saw your Dad’s photo with big blue eyes, a pink nose, whiskers and floppy bunny ears courtesy of Snapchat. “Hi Dad, where are you guys?”

He began to tell you about their cruise so far, having stopped in Honduras first, going on about all the things they did and ate. They were currently in Belize where they were taking a break after snorkeling.

“You’re joking. Turtles! I’m so jealous, that sounds amazing!” you squealed.

Lance had gotten off the phone and followed the sound of your voice to the gym. Sunlight from the windows above filtered in, shining a light on you like you were an angel being called back to heaven. Lance sighed heavily, standing in the doorway as he watched you, taking in the shape of your womanly figure. He listened to the carefree laughter you had while conversing with your Dad.

He was envious of many things, wishing you would open up like that to him. He missed the sound of your laughter, remembering all the times he made you laugh, wishing he could do it again. He had always envied you though, wishing he had a Dad like yours.

***

Lance ran across the street, knocking furiously on your window. You nearly jumped out of bed, the  _Goosebumps_  book you were reading flew out of your hands. Opening the window you helped Lance climb in as quietly as possible. He sat on your bed, brimming tears in his eyes.

“They’re fighting again,” he cried. “They want to split up.”  
“I’m sorry Lance,” you comforted, wrapping your arm around him.

“It’s my fault,” he croaked. You tried to tell him otherwise but the ten year old was insistent. “It’s true. I hear them talk about me, they fight over gymnastics. Maybe I should stop and then they’ll love each other again.”

You spoke with wisdom beyond your years as you took his hands in your own, “That’s not how it works. They love you Lance but maybe they don’t love each other anymore. My uncle stopped loving my aunt but my cousin says they’re happier now.”

“But I don’t  _want_  them to stop loving each other!” he cried, throwing himself into your arms.

You wished there was more you could do for him, not knowing how much Lance already appreciated you, from being there and letting him cry to giving him a reassuring hug; it meant more than you would ever know.

Your hug was interrupted by a knock on your door, your mom standing there with the cordless phone to her ear, “He’s here Dorothy. Yeah, don’t worry, of course he can stay over,” she replied.

Lance helped you pull out the trundle mattress from under your bed, putting a fresh sheet on it as your mom brought in extra pillows and blankets.

“Thank you Mrs. Y/L/N,” Lance said.

“Anytime Lance,” she replied, kissing both of your foreheads before turning off the light in your room. A small night light illuminated your face as you turned to lay on your stomach, extending your hand down towards Lance. He grabbed it, lacing his fingers with yours and fell asleep.

***

You noticed Lance in the doorway, making eye contact with him as you wrapped up your conversation. “Love you too Dad. Bye!” You smiled, taking a moment to bask in the joy that came with your parent’s phone call before turning to face Lance again.

“How are they?” he said, catching you off guard.  
“Good, they’re on a cruise.” Your gaze lingered at Lance long enough to see the sadness in his eyes. “How’s your mom?”

He doesn’t answer, pulling his phone out and pretending there was a message he hadn’t listened to as he turned away. You followed slowly behind him.

“It’s later than I thought. Do you want to order pizza?” You squinted your eyes at him, remembering how well last night’s dinner at the gym went. As if he read your mind he added, “I promise I’ll answer your questions.”

Maybe it was the fact that you were starving or perhaps it was the sincerity in his voice but you agreed to pizza, knowing it couldn’t compare to even the worst slices in New York. Lance ordered and you insisted on paying for it. Now you were even.

Lance had opened up about becoming the National Team Coordinator, the youngest ever in gymnastics history. He hated when he had to leave his gym, travelling the country to find talent but once he did he was an excellent coach, having a natural way of guiding someone towards achieving their goals.

“You always had a way of helping people,” you said.

***

“I can’t do it,” you cried.  
“Just trust me,” Lance claimed. “Put your hands flat on the ground and kick off with your legs. I’ll hold them up.”

It was silly to be scared of doing a handstand and yet you were, shaking like a leaf as you cried, “Noo I’m too scared. What if I crack my head open?”  
“I won’t let that happen Y/N.”

With an encouraging nod from Lance you take a deep breath, doing as he said. Hands on the ground, kicking off with your legs. You would have felt off balance but Lance had caught your legs, holding them together as your arms steadied themselves.

You did it! Your hair was falling into your face, arms beginning to shake. “How do I get down?”

“You could go back onto your feet or roll forward.”

With the blood rushing to your face you blurted out, “Um, I wanna roll.”

Lance maneuvered himself to the side, still holding your legs. He let you know when he would let go and that when you fell yourself leaning forward to tuck your head and bend your arms. Following his instructions you did it, rolling forward, lunging up towards him for a hug.

“I didn’t crack my head! Thank you Lance,” you laughed.  
“Told ya, you can always trust me,” he said, flashing a smile.  
“I will.”

***

Lance put down his slice, wiping sauce from his mouth and taking a few breaths before spoke about Maggie Townsend.

“I did everything for Maggie,” he sighed. “I heard about how great she was and after Pavleck died I knew she needed direction. Greggory got to her first and fucked her up so bad she almost didn’t make it to the National Qualifiers.”

Lance explained how Maggie was in terrible shape and blew her routine. There was some friction between him and Hope in the past, reading between the lines of what he said you sensed they had a falling out after their respective wins in 2004.

“I wanted to help her, begged Maggie’s mom to let me get her kid back on track but Hope finally got her head out of her ass and actually trained the girl. After her win at Toronto she left Hope and went back to L.A. with me.”

The struggle was evident in Lance’s voice as he talked about Maggie, remembering how excited he was to have her train with him. It was bittersweet since she betrayed him, something he did not want to expand on yet. He continued talking about the team picking up in Maggie’s absence until he was abruptly dismissed.

“Maybe if I chose the men’s team this wouldn’t have happened,” he mused.  
“Was that an option?” you asked.  
“Oh yeah. When they approached me I was offered two spots, one being the Men’s Junior Olympic program coordinator.”

Lance explained he didn’t take it because of his pride. “I thought I was the best and I didn’t want to train anyone who could take that title away from me.” He looks back on his decision now, ruminating on how being let go was a punishment that allowed him to be more humble and appreciative of the things he has in his life.

“Why petition an appeal then?” you wondered.  
“I was never involved in that shit,” referring to the scandals, “I just want my name to be associated with good things again.”

You were puzzled by his contradiction. He seemed genuinely remorseful of the path his ego led him down and yet he was fighting for the pride his name holds. Lance held his tongue, as he stared at your contemplative expression. He knew exactly what you were thinking about him, how things didn’t add up. He was trying to honor the Tucker name again, but not for himself.

You were sitting together for a while long after the pizza had finished. After cleaning up you stretched out from sitting for too long.

“I opened up to you so you have to do something for me,” he stated. Lance turned the lights on to the main floor, “Let’s see what you remember.” He motioned his hand to the mats.

“Oh no, I can’t, it’s been too long,” you protested.  
“Come on,” he chuckled.

Maybe it was the twinkle in his eyes or the boyish grin he had, or perhaps it was your absolute desperation, knowing you’d do almost anything for a story but that’s how you found yourself stepping out of your heels and onto the cool mat.

Lance stretched his arms out, shrugging his shoulders followed by standing on one leg, grabbing his foot to stretch out his quads. The outline of his muscular thighs were evident in his workout pants. You followed suit in stretching, finding your pants to be a little constricting for this type of movement.

Lance did a few forward rolls, followed by a backwards roll that he pushed himself up from into a standing position again. He motioned for you to try it. Your forward rolls were successful by your back roll was lopsided as usual. Somehow you could never manage to stay in a straight line. Lance laughed, remembering the difficulty you always had with it.

In an effort to curb his laughter you did a handstand, holding it until you felt your stomach exposed as your blouse began to fall down, so you rolled forward and popped up to your feet again, smirking at him. Lance chuckled and took this as a challenge.

He placed his hands down lifting his legs into a handstand, holding it for a few seconds before he brought his legs down into a wide split. He held the position with ease, bringing his legs straight into the air again and lifted one hand off the ground, his body leaning slightly towards the arm that supported his weight effortlessly. He was smirking and had the nerve to wink at you.

Lance began to shake but before he let go of the pose he bent his arm down, holding the weight of his body to do a pushup, a fucking one arm handstand pushup, and after eating pizza no less!

“Show off!” you snickered.  
“Your turn,” he said, winking again.

There was nothing else you could really do, being too scared to ever learn how to back flip, something young Lance never encouraged you learning considering how bad your backwards rolls were. You knew how to cartwheel though, and so took your place at the far end of the mat and took a breath.

You preferred a running start to your cartwheels, it always gave you the illusion that you knew more than you actually did and so you took off, taking a little leap before placing your hands on the mat and kicking your legs over. That’s when you heard it. The sound of fabric tearing.

As your feet hit the ground your hands reached around behind you to cover the split in the center of your pants. “Oh my god!” you screamed and Lance fell to the mat laughing. “It’s not funny,” you spat out while laughing, because really it was funny. There’s a reason dress pants are not considered athletic wear.

A vulgar comment crossed Lance’s mind, about how that wouldn’t have happened if you weren’t wearing any pants at all but it didn’t feel right to say it. He didn’t want to act like the cocky person he once was. Instead he took off his jacket and handed it to you to wrap around your waist.

With one hand covering your backside you took the jacket from him, “The ‘90s will never go out of style,” you joked, trying to catch your breath from laughing too hard.  
“I guess we’re done for the night,” he said, looking back to you and chuckling again.

You slipped your shoes back on and followed him to the car. The ride back to your hotel was much more pleasant than the night before, with Lance blasting old school hip hop, occasionally singing along under his breath. The wind whipped through your hair and you shared a glance with him laughing.

As he pulled up to your hotel you hesitated getting out of the car. Lance took the opportunity to speak, shifting uncomfortably in his seat, “My Mom’s not well,” he stated, staring at you with a tight lipped smile and worry in his eyes.

“Oh,” your heart dropped. “Do you want to talk about it?” you asked, turning to face him.

Lance thought about it, looking back up to you and seeing your concerned look. He wished he hadn’t said anything, the night was light and he brought it down by bringing this up. “It’s late, don’t worry about it.”

After asking again if he was sure he nodded his head. “Give her my best then, please.”  
“She’d like that,” he said, smiling.

“Goodnight Lance,” you said, your lips curving into a small smile, a far contrast from last night’s silent exit and slamming of his car door.

“Goodnight Y/N,” he said, waiting until you entered the hotel before driving away.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Lance had to run a take care of a few things for his mother, preferring to be alone. You invited him to your hotel room afterwards to continue talking since his office space would be unavailable, the crew was working on transforming the unfinished area into two separate locker rooms so it wouldn’t be the best place to for conversation.

The balcony overlooked the side lot of the hotel and a large water fountain of the property beside it. It was mostly quiet and you appreciated the privacy. The space was large enough for the small bistro set provided. You grabbed a few bottles of water– Fiji, as you knew not to bother with the disgusting brand anymore, placing them on the table.

You decided to wear casual clothes, jeans and sneakers and choosing an olive green shirt over a blue that reminded you a little too much of Lance’s eyes.  _This is just business. Don’t get too close._  You needed that reminder. Things with Lance were better yesterday but it doesn’t mean he’s forgiven.

He texted asking if you’d like him to bring lunch over. You joked back with him about always eating together.  _Shit was that too friendly?_  You were able to sleep better last night, parting ways on good terms but you felt like you should be mean. You argued with yourself over what to do until he responded with a laughing emoji, with tears in its eyes. What you said wasn’t  _that_ funny. Shit, this felt so weird; being friendly with each other was something that had been absent for so long but it was… nice you regretfully admitted. Screw it, your head hurts from all this, finally deciding that you’re not going to act in any way other than being yourself.

Less than an hour later you heard a knock at your door. It was a little strange inviting Lance into your hotel room but you pushed the thought aside and welcomed him in.

“Didn’t feel like getting dressed for work today?” he joked and you rolled your eyes, laughing at him.

He followed you to the balcony, handing over your lunch. It was comfortable outside with a surprisingly cool breeze blowing making the napkins fly off the table, the action easing the slightly awkward tension between you. Lance began to talk and you listened, occasionally setting your salad aside to make some notes on your laptop.

“Maggie was acting like me,” he said, pausing to drink some water. “When I won my gold I had a bit of an ego.”  
“You don’t say,” you sarcastically joked.  
“I’m not proud of that. I was a cocky little kid who got too much thrown into his lap… thought I could handle it.”

He explained how after Toronto Maggie thought she was too good for everything. She was rude to her other teammates, was skipping practice and going out a lot.

“I wanted to talk to her, give her one last shot since she was gonna be kicked off the team. That’s when she told me she was pregnant,” he said, looking disappointed as he reflected on the memory. “I was shocked to be honest.”

Lance spoke about Maggie’s mom Janice, who reminded him of his own mother. After his parent’s divorce Dorothy worked hard to provide for Lance, doing anything she could to make sure his dreams would come true.

“Maggie knew how much her mom struggled, a single woman, cleanin’ toilets and shit but she did everything for her, everything to support her and she fucked it all up by getting knocked up.” He shook his head. “Maggie tried to hide the pregnancy… didn’t want to lose her endorsements but that didn’t last. An unwed pregnant teen Olympian is not the image USA Gymnastics wanted to portray.”

“Seems pretty normal to me,” you interjected, thinking how common her situation was, minus the “Olympian” part.

“Yeah, I don’t disagree. Maggie lost her deals, had blown the rest of her savings on garbage and her loser boyfriend. She didn’t think. She thought the money would always be there. That’s when she went to  _People_ magazine.”

You remembered the cover of Maggie, her hand across her swollen belly, her gold medal around her neck with the bold caption “ **My trainer is the father!** ”

“That fucking ruined my life!” he exclaimed. He grimaced thinking about it, the hurt worn on his face. “I did a lot of fucked up things,” he said as you shared an awkward glance, “but never like this. It opened the door for everything.”

Lance ran his hands through his hair. “There was nothing I could do until the kid was born,” he sighed.

Lance had asked for a paternity test before she gave birth but Maggie wouldn’t consent, wanting to milk her pregnancy for as long as she could, even using Lance’s request for more tabloid stories painting him as a “deadbeat dad.”

After that a lot of people came forward to accuse him, believing if he had an inappropriate relationship with Maggie then why not them? Girls claimed he had harassed them or touched them without consent. Lance may have been a douche but he wasn’t an idiot, he respected people and knew boundaries.

Most accusations were easily disproved, some of his accusers had never actually met him. “Except for Karen Otero,” he reflected. She was a former gymnast on the team who was very angry she was let go.

“She said I spiked her drink and raped her. I would  _never_ ,  ** _EVER_** , do that!” he stressed, staring into your eyes.

***

You had just turned sixteen and your parents bought you your first cell phone. You loved that Nokia. You texted Lance, your boyfriend of three years (yes it finally happened, like everyone said it would), letting him know you were at Mike’s party, a friend of a friend of Lance’s, and hoped he would be back in time to make it. He was heading back from an out of state competition which he won another gold medal for.

You were upset you couldn’t go, you rarely missed his competitions but since getting a part time job you found you couldn’t call out as easily as you hoped. It was a sacrifice you made, deciding that your perfect work attendance would be a perfect way to negotiate getting lots of time off for the upcoming Junior Prom and Nationals next year.

Being at the house of a senior was a little intimidating. You knew a couple of people, some shared your lunch period, others you knew through Lance before he left to homeschool. You mingled throughout the house with a Smirnoff Ice in hand. You had only gotten drunk once before last year with your friend Christina. She took a bottle of rum from her parent’s liquor cabinet and stashed it along with a bottle of flat soda in the back of her closet. You drank it when you thought her parents were out, not realizing, because you were both  _extremely_ loud, that they had come home.

When they realized you were drunk her parents called yours to pick you up. Both of you ended up grounded for two months. Lance stopped by the next day but he couldn’t stay for long; your Dad kindly let him have a few minutes with you before your Mom came home.

Lance didn’t feel bad that you were grounded, he was always a bit of a goody two shoes growing up, but when you ran towards the bathroom to vomit he felt awful. He rushed to your side to hold back your hair, rubbing your back and bringing you some water. You stayed away from hard liquor ever since, experimenting here and there with beer but you didn’t really like it.

Christina was at the party with her boyfriend Dimitri so you said hello to them before making your way to watch a group playing beer pong.

A short guy named Jason came over saying hello to some people. “Hey Y/N, I see you’re out,” he said noticing the empty bottle you were still holding onto. “I’ll grab you another,” he offered. You were too preoccupied in a conversation with a girl named Marie you had gym with to notice the bottle he handed you was already opened.

Not long after Lance had pulled up to the house with blaring music. He’s greeted by a couple of friends outside, asking people if they’ve seen you, a little worried since you didn’t respond to his last text. Lance entered the house, making eye contact with Brendan Murphy, a guy on the varsity baseball team that gave you the creeps when you interviewed him for your school’s newspaper. Brendan ducked into a room and something told Lance to follow him.

Your body was buzzing, feeling the beat of the music pulsing through you, from the bottom of your toes to the top of your head. Your eyes were shut and you smiled, running your hands up and down your body. You wanted to move, to become part of the rhythm. You grabbed Jason’s hands, placing them on your hips, swaying to the sounds.

Any worries you had disappeared, any anxieties you felt were gone. You were bubbly and happy, you felt magical, like an ethereal goddess, a mythical figure. You were a mermaid, swimming in a sea of love.

Brendan entered the room as Jason grabbed the hem of your tank top, pulling it over your arms. You pulled his body closer to yours, desperate for contact. You felt more alive than you ever have and it was so mind blowing it didn’t feel real. You needed to reach out to someone, to touch them, to bring them into the world you felt.

Brendan came up behind you, running his hands over the cups of your bra, down your sides and over the curve of your ass. He then began to unbuckle his belt as Jason undid the button of your jeans.

“Get away from her!” Lance screamed.

Lunging forward he pushed Jason away from you and he fell to the ground. You stood there, giddy and excited to see Lance but you couldn’t push through the fog to truly know what was going on.

Brendan threw a punch at Lance that landed on his jaw but it didn’t faze him. Tackling him to the ground, Lance delivered punch after punch to the pale boy’s face until his nose was bloodied.

“You fucking scumbags, what did you give her?” Lance screamed as he punched Brendan again.  
“E,” Brendan strained to say.

Jason got courageous and wrapped his arm around Lance’s neck and dragging him off his friend from behind. He didn’t anticipate Lance’s strength, quickly breaking free of the hold and knocking Jason out with a swift punch.

Lance rushed over to you, checking if you were hurt but truth be told you felt really good and he was starting to bring you down. You wanted to feel good, the music was calling you and you wanted to be surrounded by it again. You gently pushed Lance to the side, gliding towards the door, the light from the other room calling you to it before he caught your arm and pulled you back.

Lance felt the heat of your skin and saw the beads of sweat that pooled around your hairline. He tried to keep you in the room until he could find your shirt. Once he did he fought with you to get it on but you didn’t want it, it was too constricting, you wanted to be free to let the music touch you and flow through your body. He forced your tank top back on, lacing his arm through yours, dragging you out of the house to his car, pausing briefly to yell at Mike and tell him what Jason and Brendan did.

You were defiant with Lance, unbuckling your seatbelt because you wanted to be free. He did his best to drive safely while keeping you in the car, clenching his jaw with worry. For as carefree and happy you were feeling Lance was anxious and upset, this shouldn’t have happened to you.

A couple of his friends have tried ecstasy before so he knew the effects would dissipate in a few hours. Lance brought you back to his house, doing his best to get you inside quickly and quietly so you wouldn’t wake up the neighborhood, or worse, your parents who didn’t give you permission to go to any party. He knocked on the door of his mother’s bedroom, asking her for help as he explained what happened.

Dorothy had seen a recent news program on the dangers of ecstasy. “Get her some water and Gatorade now,” she said, taking you in Lance’s room. She bit her lip as she examined you quickly, seeing your pupils blown wide.

“Please don’t tell her parents,” Lance begged as he entered the room.

Dorothy urged you to drink and you did, unaware of the conversation she and Lance had.

“You’re sure they didn’t…” Dorothy implied assault, unable to picture you, the little girl she’s known for so long, being put in such a terrible situation.

“I’m sure,” he confirmed.  
“Make sure she drinks these. If she’s still too warm or hyper, or  _anything_ else happens get me and we’re going to the hospital.”

Lance had brought you some food to eat but you weren’t hungry. Going through his drawers he pulled out a t-shirt and sweatpants for you to sleep in. You began to undress and he turned his back to you to give you privacy. He assumed you were finished when he heard you nuzzling yourself onto his mattress, the feel of his smooth comforter felt amazing against your skin. Your clothes were on the end of his bed, along with the sweatpants you didn’t put on.

He looked at them, wondering why they were on his bed and not your body. “Too hot,” you said, a content smile settling on your face as you sank into the soft mattress, wearing only his large t-shirt that went down to your thighs.

Lance grabbed your hands urging you to eat. You sat up, cupping his cheeks with your hands and pulling him in for a kiss. You were needy and wanting more, wanting everything from him, to feel his hands all over your body that burned and ached in the way that only he could ease.

“S-stop, stop,” he said, pulling away.

You’ve had your fair share of heavy makeout sessions before and hands may have begun to roam during them but that was it. You didn’t want to pressure yourselves, believing you would know when the right time was to go further.

“Not now, not like this Y/N. Please,  _please_ just eat something.”

You gave in, picking at a package of Pop-Tarts he brought in, getting crumbs all over the bed. Lance put the air conditioner on, keeping his room cool for you, dabbing your forehead with a wet washcloth and forcing you to drink more liquids. You made a few trips to the bathroom to pee in the few hours you stayed up. Slowly but surely your body had calmed down.

Lance pushed himself to stay up for as long as he could, making sure that you were safe. You weren’t just his girlfriend, you were his soulmate and he loved you. If anyone asked he would tell them he’s loved you since the first day he laid eyes on you, the girl with the bright red bow in her hair with a contagious laugh who asked if he could be her friend and he always would be.

Dorothy checked in on you both in the early morning, unable to sleep as she was up with worry all night. She slowly opened the door, finding Lance unchanged from the clothes she last saw him in, sleeping above the covers with your body curled against him and his arm protectively drawn over you.

You woke up the next day feeling awful. Your head felt heavy and in a fog, you smelled gross, like you ran a mile and you were freezing now, pulling the blanket up to cover your shoulders. You looked down and realized this wasn’t your blanket, nor was it your room. The large Britney Spears poster and various medals hanging on the wall informed you that you were in Lance’s room, though you don’t remember getting here.

Scrunching your eyes shut you took a deep breath and tried to remember what happened last night. You shot up, pulling your knees to your chest as fragments of the party came back to you. Lance walked in just as you were crying. He set aside the glass of orange juice he was bringing you and jumped by your side, wrapping his arms around your shaking body.

“I’m so sorry, Lance, I’m sorry. I’m so…” you bawled.  
“Shhh, it’s okay Y/N,” he said, rocking you in his arms. He pushed your hair aside to place a kiss on your forehead, his lips lingering before he spoke, “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

Through your tearful vision you looked up at Lance, seeing the streaks of his own tears down his cheeks. “If you weren’t there…” you began and he held you tighter.  
“You’re okay Y/N. You’re okay,” he repeated.

You sat back to wipe your eyes, taking in deep breaths to calm your shaking body. You looked into his eyes, the rosy veins stretching across like cherry blossom stems, the blue of his eyes bright yet unsteady like a river. Concern was etched onto his face as he reached out to gently cup your cheek.

Pressing into his hand you closed your eyes, focusing on his touch and that’s when you felt it. You’ve said “I love you” plenty of times before but now you truly felt the impact of those words. The love Lance had was running through his veins, pumping in his body with every beat of his heart.  

“I love you Lance,” you declared but it was more than that, you felt more than the three words could express. Staring into the eyes of the boy who was kind enough to be your friend, who later became the man you knew in your heart you would grow old with, warts and all, you were in love with Lance Tucker.

“I love you too Y/N,” he replied, pressing his lips to yours briefly and pulling you close to his chest.

You were both silent as you laid back on his bed, listening to the sound of his heart beating, savoring the moment together for as long as you could.

You changed back into your jeans, keeping Lance’s large t-shirt on as you went to the kitchen. Dorothy was making breakfast but dropped everything to wrap you into her arms. Lance offered to continue cooking in her place but she insisted she was almost done, plating eggs and toast along with sausage for everyone.

The conversation over breakfast was as awkward as one thinks it might be when you’re discussing being drugged. Lance held your hand, giving reassuring squeezes as you spoke about what it. In the end you decided not to say anything, feeling embarrassed enough that it happened though you understood it was not your fault.

Brendan and Jason were seniors and graduating in a few months. Lance had beat them both up pretty good which you hated to admit made you feel great, and they knew to stay away from both of you. You just wanted to forget them and let the school year end without all the drama that would come with telling on them, though you regret not saying anything now that you’re thinking back.

Lance never took advantage of you and he beat the shit out of those that tried and you never forgot it.

***

“I know,” you said, placing a firm hand over his, “I know you wouldn’t do that.”

Lance explained that the gymnastics committee suspended him pending the investigation. In the meanwhile all of his sponsors dropped him and once again he was on the cover of tabloids, with TMZ following him to and from the training center.

“Someone came forward, saying they heard Frank, Karen’s dad, talking about how they could get back at me– like it was  _my_ fault Karen got cut.” He paused to take a drink, his throat becoming increasingly scratchy. “I mean yeah, I made the decision but it wasn’t personal, we didn’t have a spot for her anymore.”

Lance stopped to clear his throat before continuing. “I never recovered from it. The reporters still hounded me even though I was cleared.” He cleared his throat once more, croaking out, “Then they went after my mom.” He looked up to you sorrowfully, tears brimming his eyes.

“She was getting a lot of phone calls harassing her for comments. People started following her when she left work. She got so flustered one day she panicked and backed into a car instead of driving forward. That didn’t help.” He braced his elbows on his thighs, his hands clasped together in front of his mouth.

“She was real stressed out, got bad headaches. Then I get a call from the neighbor saying she had a seizure.”

His shoulders were hunched over now, his body tensing as he continued. “Turns out, she uh…” he stops to clear his throat again, struggling to speak, “The seizures, the headaches, even the car accident, it was all related t-to…”

You place your hand on his knee, feeling his trembling muscles underneath your touch. Tears escaped down his cheeks as he sighed, “My mom has cancer.”


	7. Chapter 7

“Glioblastoma.” Lance exhaled, tensing his jaw, his voice cracking as he continued, “The most aggressive type of brain cancer.”

Lance had been all set to make an appeal to the committee– he wanted his job back. It was unfair to associate him with that sick doctor who actually  _was_ guilty! Lance was prepared, guns blazing and ready to fight up until his mom got sick. He dropped everything and moved back to Spring Hill to take care of her. He bought a new place, downsizing from his unnecessarily large L.A. home to a smaller house nearby. He accompanied her to chemo and radiation, doing his best to keep her spirits up, telling her everything was going to be alright despite them both knowing this was terminal. The treatment would only prolong her life a few years at best.

You wiped away the tears you didn’t realize had begun to fall, squeezing his knee, “I’m so sorry Lance. I wish I– did, uh, does my mom know?”

“I’m not sure. I know they spoke less after your parents moved.”

You sighed, using both hands to wipe your guilt ridden face, “I don’t know if she’d tell me. I kinda made a point to avoid anything to do with you,” you regretfully said.

Lance looked as sorry as you felt but he couldn’t blame you. You certainly could blame yourself though. Dorothy was dying and you were selfish, too wrapped up in your past to even say hello to her the last time you were here. You saw the hurt in his eyes, the sorrow from everything he was going through. Lance loved his mother and now he was going to lose her.

Lance’s phone interrupted the silence. You grabbed the empty food containers and went back inside your room to give him privacy. Sitting against the headboard of the bed you watched him through the doors, regretting that you weren’t there for him during this. How could you have been though? You hadn’t spoken in years. The least you could have done was hug him just now. Wait, should you have? Is that appropriate? He’s your… well you’re not really sure what Lance is, not anymore at least.

***

Dorothy was working on New Year’s Eve so Lance came over your house. Your parents had a few people over to celebrate the new millennium and said you could invite some friends over as well but you only asked Lance. His father had died just before Thanksgiving and despite their rocky relationship you knew he was still upset. You didn’t need other friends any way, wanting to continue your own tradition of ringing in the new year with Lance, staying up all night, playing  _Clue_  and watching  _The Twilight Zone_  marathon.

By fourteen Lance had grown, nearing six feet tall. He was always lean but now he was less lanky, filling out as his muscles began to really develop. His gymnastics training had increased as he set his sights on placing for the Olympics once he was old enough to compete.

You brought in a bowl of chips and dip, sitting next to Lance on your bed and for the first time ever you felt really nervous. Somehow things had changed once you turned thirteen and every time you saw Lance you had butterflies in your stomach. It was really uncomfortable considering you saw him every day! You had a crush on your best friend and you tried not to make it weird, keeping it a secret from all of your other friends. Your mom knew though, mom’s always know these things.

Lance had his own secret too, harboring similar feelings but you were his best friend and he didn’t want to lose you. He tried to focus on other things, like gymnastics and science, which he absolutely hated, but chemistry doesn’t lie; there was a palpable energy between you and it was building throughout the night with stolen glances and brushes of the hand.

As the countdown to midnight began the tension rose.

**_Ten_ **

“What if the world ends?” you pondered, recalling the rumors that computers will cease to work and somehow the world will plunge itself into the dark ages.

**_Nine_ **

“Then it ends with us together,” he said, smiling as he grabbed your hand.

**_Eight_ **

“There’s something I wanted to tell you.” You looked away from him, nervously chewing on your lip.

**_Seven_ **

“Yeah? M-me too.” Lance swallowed harshly.

**_Six_ **

Somehow you found the courage within to tell Lance the truth, “You’re my best friend and…”

_**Five** _

Squeezing your eyes shut you blurted the rest of your sentence out, “… I  _like_ like you,” you emphasized.

**_Four_ **

“Really?!” He exclaimed as your eyes popped open to see his wide grin. “I  _like_ like you too!”

**_Three_ **

Rubbing the back of his neck, “And I was kinda hoping…”

**_Two_ **

“… you would be my girlfriend,” he squeaked out, holding his breath as he waited for your answer.

**_One!  
Happy New Year!_ **

A steady wave of “Auld Lang Syne” began from the crowd on the TV, the loud sound of noise makers and cheers were coming from the living room but you and Lance heard none of it. After hearing Lance ask you out your mouth dropped open in shock. He liked you too, he liked you and wanted you to be his girlfriend! Life could not get any better!

You and Lance leaned in, slowly, nervously inching closer to each other until your lips were pressed together. Your first kiss! You felt like you were in a bubble where nothing existed but the two of you.

Chemistry was real, Lance + Y/N –> love

The bubble burst when your mom opened your door to wish you a Happy New Year. She was shocked, but honestly more embarrassed to have walked in and ruin a sweet moment. You covered your mouth in shock, playfully screaming at her to leave you guys alone.

After she left you both burst out with laughter, “Mom’s never gonna let you sleep in here again!” you joked.

***

The door to the balcony slid open and you popped off of the bed. “I gotta go,” Lance said quietly.

You were sure he was lying, as far as you knew he didn’t have much to do today but maybe the phone call changed his plans. It seemed like he needed some space, it couldn’t have been easy talking about his mom to you, the person he was once so close with who is now practically a stranger. Fuck, you should have hugged him.

Lance was walking towards the door to leave when you called out for him to stop. “Hey, wait!” you said, halting him. You grabbed the jacket he loaned you from the night before, handing it back. Taking an unsure breath, “D-do you want to grab dinner later?”

He exhaled, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I’m done with the interview for today, I think,” he said, sounding exhausted.

“I know. I meant to go as…  _friends_ ,” you said, though the word came out foreign, like you were unsure of how to pronounce it, going up in tone so it seemed like more of a question. You smiled sincerely, hoping that would make up for your inability to speak properly.

Lance thought about it for a moment, returning the smile and he agreed. He was going to text you later on to discuss plans and you were actually looking forward to it. You closed the door behind him, putting your back against it and casually sliding down until you were seated on the floor.

“Fuck Y/N, what are you doing?” you scolded yourself.

Staring back at your reflection in the mirror you debated on changing. You looked amazing, in a [sleeveless navy blue dress](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.lulus.com%2Fproducts%2Ffinal-stretch-navy-blue-dress%2F46741.html&t=MjU1MmQ2YTJkZTY0ZTM5NjMyODRmYzc2ZTI3NjlmYjVkMWQwNmEwMixVZWcxZFJicA%3D%3D&b=t%3A4IBk3eqNX5h7cHTV4pcqRQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmoonbeambucky.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175204161026%2Fpriceofgoldpart7) with a stripe of sheer mesh on the neckline and hem but you wondered if it was too much. Your casual clothes were too casual and your professional clothes seemed too stiff. Somehow in the three days you’d been here it felt like there was a crack running along the walls you had put up, Lance was getting in and that worried you.

Slipping on beige heels you checked to see that everything was in place, your hair looked good, makeup was perfect, your teeth were clean, mouth still tingling from the mouthwash you swished around. Lance texted you when he was outside and with a few more nervous breaths you made your way downstairs.

Lance leaned against his car, dressed in a dark blue button down shirt and with grey pants. His breath caught in his throat as he became entranced, watching you walk towards him.

“Wow,” he said, breathlessly. “You look incredible.” He leaned to kiss you on the cheek, something neither of you expected and yet it felt right. Your skin was electrified, feeling the sensation of his clean shaven skin brushing against yours, the subtle hint of spice from his cologne lingered and tantalized your senses.

“We match,” you joked and he flashed a bright smile as he agreed.

Lance opened the door and you could barely look at him without feeling warmth flowing through your cheeks.

It was a quick drive to the coast, as you decided to go to a seafood restaurant on the water. You were thankful you didn’t change, finding the restaurant to be a lot more upscale than you originally expected. As the waiter led you towards your table Lance instinctively placed his hand against the small of your back before catching himself and pulling away.

You turned towards him, seeing him mouth an apology and an awkward smile. You nodded, as a gesture of letting him know it was okay, because deep down it was and you craved his touch again.  _Dammit Y/N what is wrong with you?_

You overlooked the ocean from your small table, your arms merely inches apart as a candle flickered in the center. It was romantic and not at all what you were expecting when you asked him out to dinner. Not that you expected anything, but somehow impulse took over and your mouth spoke before your brain could stop the words from leaving.

Despite the intimate setting Lance had kept things platonic and you were grateful for that. Deep down he was struggling, wanting to confess how much he’s missed you and how happy he was having you in his life again. It’s not real though, he reminded himself. You were only here for work and you’d be leaving as soon as your job was done. He tried to tell himself that whatever you had ended a long time ago and it didn’t end well. But right now wasn’t about any of that. He was going to push his feelings down, deep down, and just be your friend. You deserved that from him.

After ordering Lance had made a point to find out about your life after high school. You sipped on a glass of white wine as you told him about your time at college, something Lance had never experienced, laughing at funny memories you shared about dorming.

“I don’t know how I survived Chicago,” you joked, reminiscing about the brutal winters.  
“Snow is pretty… from a distance,” Lance said.  
“Agreed!”

The conversation was light and easy going. It felt really good to catch up with Lance, seeing him as the friend you once knew and loved instead of the cocky ladies man as per his well known reputation. He was charming and polite and when he pulled up to your hotel you wondered how and why the night was over already.

Boldly, you leaned over to kiss him on the cheek goodbye, letting your soft lips linger on his skin for a moment longer than you should have before slipping out of the car.

Lance made sure you entered the hotel safely, his fingertips grazing the area where your lips had been, his skin buzzing with delight. As he drove away he was unable to contain the huge smile that spread across his face, staying with him until his eyes closed on his pillow, hoping to dream about you. 


	8. Chapter 8

The next day began early with Lance picking you up to bring you to his house where he had a meeting scheduled with his upcoming staff about next week’s opening. Lance’s house was in a gated community about ten minutes from where you used to live.

He pulled in to the driveway of his two-story home, a neutral exterior with a nicely landscaped lawn with a tall palm tree. Stepping inside there were espresso colored wood planks running across the floors, the walls were a medium grey with crisp white trim and crown moulding surrounding the ceilings. Lance led you inside to a room to the right of the entryway, with paneled French doors opening into a small office.

Another grey room, with a dark grey rug spread across the wood floors. On the far wall there was a large white built in bookcase and a few figurines and books scattered on the shelves. Two white arm chairs were nestled between a window that filtered in soft light. A dark leather chair was placed behind his desk, or what you assumed was his desk, it was covered in so many papers it was hard to tell. Based on the legs you could see it was a beautiful reclaimed oak.

Lance offered to get you something to drink, leaving you to head to the kitchen but you followed him anyway. You were interested in seeing his house. Home decoration can tell you a lot about a person so it was absolutely necessary that you take a peek around.

Lance was surprised you to see you leaning against the island, the polished marble with grey veining, staring at the white cabinets with black pull handles and stainless steel appliances. His kitchen was a hell of a lot nicer than yours.

You glanced over your shoulder to see the dining area which didn’t surprise you, more black, grey and white. Everything was put together beautifully between the furniture and décor, you wondered if he had a designer, or worse, a girlfriend. Wait,  _why are you even worried about that?_

Lance, or at least the Lance known to the media, was never one for relationships. He had been seen with plenty of beautiful women but nothing ever lasted. He hasn’t mentioned anyone to you, not that you expected him to, but you weren’t oblivious to the amount of texts he had been receiving that you just so happened to see were from a variety of women. But you don’t care. You don’t.

Everything looked like it was out of a magazine, crisp, clean, and very generic. There were no personal touches at all. Maybe these things were upstairs or in the rooms you hadn’t seen yet but you assumed a Gold and Silver winning Olympian would proudly showcase his memorabilia. You would never know that Lance Tucker even lived here.

Lance prepped his Keurig to make you a cup of coffee as he made himself a protein shake, offering you some fruit while waiting for your drink to brew.

“Where’s all your stuff?” you asked, clarifying what you meant after he cocked his head in confusion.  
“Mom has it all,” he said, forcing a smile at the thought.

Well now you just felt awful even though you didn’t know your question would bring her up.

“I told her you were in town,” he said, interrupting your inner chastising. “She seemed to smile.”

Had the doorbell not rung you would have asked if you could visit her. Lance got up to let his guest inside, taking her into the office. You introduced yourself to the woman named Laura, telling her to ignore you as you observed them.

Laura was bubblier than a bottle of champagne, it was sickeningly adorable. She was a petite girl but an obvious former gymnast; you felt the strength in her hug when she forced one on you. They discussed the gym’s opening, she was hired as a second head trainer. They went over class schedules, having a handful of students signed up so far, and had a plan to expand classes and hours, hoping traffic from the opening would help bring more people in.

As Lance and Laura spoke your mind drifted thinking about how good they looked together. Physically they were perfect, like statues sculpted to perfection by the finest artisans of the Renaissance. Her green eyes stood out against her tanned skin and blonde hair. Their kids would be gorgeous. Fuck,  _why are you thinking about them having kids?_  To have kids means they’d have sex and the thought makes your stomach churn. Stop it now, you tried to scold your nerves. You wanted to hate her and you knew that was wrong, but you really, really wanted to.

They had spent a few hours going over everything, during that time you noticed Laura had pulled out a bottle of water from her bag and drank it. Later her stomach was growling, loud enough for her to squeak out an apology. She took out a package of almonds to eat as they continued, and Lance smacked his forehead, apologizing for not offering her something earlier. She declined his offer now as they were just about done but it made you realize how Lance had always made sure you had something to eat or drink.

Laura left, bouncing towards you for another hug before she did, and Lance walked her out. During his discussion with Laura, papers had been shuffled and thankfully more organized, exposing a frame that laid flat down on the desk. Being nosy, you went to look at it and saw a photo of Lance and Dorothy together after he won the Junior Olympic National Championship. Lance was looking straight ahead, holding up his gold medal as Dorothy looked up to him with the proudest smile on her face.

Lance cleared his throat as he entered the room again and you delicately stood the frame up on the desk. He needed to run a few errands before meeting the contractor again. Not knowing if you’d be coming back there you asked for a quick tour of the rest of the house and he obliged, showing you the living room area led you upstairs to where the bedrooms were. You toured his bedroom quickly but given your history it felt awkward being there.

Back downstairs Lance opened the doors of the veranda leading you to his screen enclosed pool and aforementioned hot tub.

“Your home is beautiful,” you said, staring at the water glistening in the sunlight.  
“Thanks.” He smiled, watching as you slowly looked around again lazily making your way back to his office to grab your things.

Seeing you in his house made him happy. It was something he had always imagined growing up, that you two would find a place to settle into, get married and have children, fill a house with warmth and memories. He pictured your laughter echoing through the halls, wanting to wake up every day to see your smiling face, your limbs tangled together, not getting out of bed until he slowly kissed every inch of your body.

This would always be a dream, something he lost the chance for a long time ago. This was a nightmare plaguing his mind, taunting him with the things he wants the most, the things he’ll never have.

After all the stops he had to make and grabbing a quick bite to eat you and Lance had finally made it back to the center. The bathroom was roped off, having recently been grouted but everything looked amazing. The sinks still needed to be installed along with the mirrors and other finishing touches but it was nearly complete.

Lance had opened up on how the gym had set him into debt. “On top of mom’s stuff too it’s been tight. If this place was accredited by USA Gymnastics then I’d have a better shot at making it,” he claimed. He had submitted his appeal to the committee over two months ago and was waiting patiently to hear back.

On the drive back to your hotel Lance had gotten quiet, you noticed his nervous hands fidgeting against the steering wheel. By the time he parked you asked if he was okay.

Gripping the steering wheel tight he exhaled, “No. I need to say something. I should’ve said it up front the other day just like I should’ve said it years ago. Y/N I’m sorry.”

***

Lance was waiting to pick you up after school. He was in his last year of homeschooling as he was training full time. His coach was pushing him hard and this weekend was the last qualifying competition for the Olympics. Your parents were letting you travel with Lance, which was a big step for them. They didn’t know that you and Lance had recently taken  _another_ big step.

Your first time together was loving and awkward, tender and nerve-wracking but you were both ready to show your love and commitment in this new way and you’ve felt closer ever since.

Running down the steps towards Lance you leapt into his arms, wrapping your legs around him as he held you up, kissing each other hello. He let your legs down gently and you tossed your backpack into his car.

“Oh, wait. I need to talk to Rachel before we go. I’ll be right back,” you said, pecking him on the lips as he told you to hurry up, knowing there was a flight to catch.

“Y/N’s pretty clingy, huh?” Daniel commented to Lance.

They would have been in the same grade had Lance not left. Daniel was on the football team, one of the most popular kids in school. Even in elementary school he was cool and Lance had wanted to be his friend, but Daniel and his group of friends always made fun of him.

Lance scoffed at the comment. Maybe you had been a tad clingier but so was he. You don’t take that step with someone and not have attachments, and Lance was already in love with you.

More guys from the football team came over to slap hands with Daniel, hanging around him. “Did you guys…” Daniel lewdly gestured by sticking his finger in a hole he made with his other hand.

Lance didn’t answer but the blush that crept on his face spoke for him and the crowd of guys “oohed.”

“Aww shit, you popped her cherry! Good for you man,” he congratulated him.

The boisterous team slapped Lance’s hand and for a moment he felt accepted after all those years. He felt like someone his father could finally be proud of so he reluctantly admitted to his actions.

“We gotta call you Lance ‘The Fucker’ Tucker from now on!” they cheered.

Lance laughed at his nickname, it was better the ones they gave him growing up. Like his father, the boys in his class thought gymnastics was for girls so they called him “Fancy Lancy” or “Prance.” Now he had a nickname that was cool, now  _he_  was finally cool so he indulged in his new status.

A boastful smile spread across his face as he stretched the truth a bit when they started asking if you were begging for him to give it to you. He knew he was lying but this was harmless chatter between friends.

Then the guys started talking about what they imagined you looked like naked and asking Lance if they were right or wrong while others started moaning. Lance came to his senses, these guys would never be his friend and he didn’t want them any way.

“That’s not cool guys, come on,” Lance said.  
“My man, think about it, why stop with Y/N? You’re around hot girls all the time, you probably know a lot of flexible bitches, oooohhhh imagine what they can do!”

Lance told them to knock it off, especially when he saw your smiling face walking back towards him. He quickly ushered you into the car and drove away, trying to shake off his unpleasant encounter with the stupid jocks.

Along with Lance’s coach you flew to Myrtle Beach, South Carolina where you cheered him on, beaming with joy when he placed in the top.

When you were back at school the next week the halls were buzzing with chatter. You thought it was news about Lance making it to the Olympics, since the local reporters did a story on him. Instead you had notes passed to you about how the whole school thinks you’re a slut. Lance had apparently been boasting about sleeping with you and a rumor was spreading that you’d slept with ten guys. On top of it someone had given your number out and you were getting really nasty texts, asking if you’d suck their dick.

You found yourself in the nearest bathroom, crying in the stall. Why was this happening? You didn’t even tell your best friends yet. If anyone found out it wasn’t from you, but Lance would never say this, right? The door opened and you stayed quiet, hearing a group of girls talking as they fixed their hair in the mirror.

“I heard she blew Jason at Mike’s party,” one said.  
“She blew Brendan too. She probably blew Mike just to get invited there,” another snickered.  
“Alex told me the door was open and he saw her fuck Lance, Jason  _and_ Brendan. They all took turns!”  
“Oh my god, what a slut!” They all laughed.  
“Lance is right, he could do so much better than her.”

They exited the bathroom continuing to laugh and once you were sure you were alone you broke down. Your face was wet from the silent tears you shed but now you sobbed, wailing, beating your hands against the bathroom stall. How could he say that? How could he do that?

Leaving school early you went home running straight into your bed, clutching your pillow and drenching it with tears. You waited for Lance to get home, marching across the street as you saw his car pull up. He attempted to greet you but was cut off, physically by your palm striking his face.

“I can’t believe you!” you tearfully screamed, explaining how the entire school has been talking about you.  
“I didn’t say that I swear,” he admitted, when you asked him about the rumor of finding something better than you.  
“So how does everyone know we slept together? Because I didn’t say a word to anyone!”

Lance looked down at his sneakers, scuffing them in the dirt before confessing what happened. He finally brought his eyes up to meet yours, seeing the indignation within them.

“So that’s it? You just say ‘stop it’? What happened to the guy that beat up the idiots who almost raped me? Where was he?”  
“Y/N…” he began softly.

“No! You don’t get a say in this. You’re a loser Lance! I can’t walk down the halls without people whispering about me but everything’s cool ‘cause you have a fucking nickname now?” you scoffed. Hot tears ran down your cheeks as you yelled, feeling anger course through your veins.

“I wasn’t thinking clearly. My head was on the competition and we were running late.”

“Oh, excuuuuuuse me then,” you drawled sarcastically. “So because I took an extra minute of your precious time you think it’s okay to talk shit about me?”

“Y/N I didn’t say that, would you stop overreacting?” he said, realizing his poor choice of words. Lance tried reaching his arms towards you but pushed him away.

“I know you think you’re the God of gymnastics but you’re not Lance, you’re a selfish prick. My reputation is ruined because you didn’t make any attempt to stop this. It’s all about you!”

He tried one more time to speak but you wouldn’t let him, the sweet voice that you looked forward to hearing became grating, his soft touch was like poison. Though you’d known him for most of your life it was like a stranger was staring back at you.

“I never want to see you again!” you roared.

Turning on your heels you violently opened and slammed your front door, stomping towards your room, your parents not daring to ask what happened though they heard the yelling from inside. You grabbed your teddy bear, still wearing Lance’s first medal, and chucked it across the room, crying yourself to sleep.

***

“I’m so sorry. I never meant for things to happen like that. I got caught up in… in…” he searched for the words.  
“Please don’t say locker room talk,” you said, feeling a wave of queasiness wash over you as he brought up the past.

“Talking about it… It was the first time I felt like a man. I know that sounds stupid but gymnastics were not good to me growing up. I got teased about the leotards, it wasn’t masculine, it wasn’t a sport,” he said, hearing his father’s words in his head. “So once they figured out what we did,” he paused to run his hands through his hair, “I tried to stop them but not hard enough.”

He explained that he never said the things you accused him of, and he certainly didn’t start any of the rumors. After your fight he tried calling but you never answered, he knocked on your door but your parent’s wouldn’t let him in at your request. He left flowers and notes but you threw them out without reading them.

“And then the Olympics came and I had to go. I didn’t want to leave without talking to you but you wouldn’t see me. I was so nervous and it was selfish of me but I wished you were there. I won but I lost. I lost you, my friend, my world.”

He wiped away a stray tear, his hand gingerly making its way over to your own. With your sweaty palm in his you stared at each other, your eyes nervously darting between his.

“From the bottom of my heart I want you to know how sorry I am. I regret everything I did. I can’t change the past but I won’t stop until I make it up to you.”

Lance gently rubbed is thumb against your hand, waiting for your response. You pulled your hand away, breaking your silence by saying, “I have to go,” as you exited his car, sprinting towards the hotel doors without looking back.


	9. Chapter 9

You stormed your way through a large group of people checking in, trying to hide the tears that fell down your cheeks as you frantically pushed the elevator call button, almost running into someone as they were exiting once the doors opened.

Back in the solace of your room you paced back and forth, opening the doors to the balcony and breathing in the warm evening air.

Before coming here you had your mind set, find out what you needed to write your article and leave, never needing to see Lance Tucker ever again. You never planned on bringing up what happened between you, you’re an adult now, you have a great life, the perfect job that lets you travel and see the world through the eyes of many different athletes.

Somehow things had changed. Maybe it was setting foot in Spring Hill, with memories pouring down on you like the thunderstorms of your former home state. Maybe it was Lance. He had changed from the arrogant playboy back to the sweet friend you knew, or maybe that person was there all along. You wouldn’t know considering you abruptly cut him out of your life.

Yet here he was again, and somehow in the short amount of time you’d been back you had stopped fighting and opened up to each other, almost settling into a routine. It was comforting to have him back and then the storm became heavier, the wind whipped through you, everything turned into a violent hurricane as Lance brought up the reason for your fallout.

Being forced to relive the event tore at your heart, but this time you saw it through Lance’s eyes. He filled in the gaps and apologized for his behavior. He knew he was wrong and he tried many times to apologize but you never heard it. You were so focused on your own pain that you didn’t see how much he was hurting as well.

Wait,  _why are you making excuses for him?_  He’s an asshole. He acted like a stupid, selfish jerk. He doesn’t deserve your forgiveness. For so many years you convinced yourself that Lance was the enemy, that he was the reason you didn’t last but that didn’t seem right anymore.

Lance was immature but he knew he was wrong and tried his best to make things right. It’s taken you fifteen years to finally realize you had been immature as well. You never gave him a chance, you were too overcome with emotion to think rationally. You were both to blame.

Another revelation you’ve had in the few days back is that you still had feelings for Lance Tucker. You pushed them away for so long, buried them under mounds of hate. You blamed Lance for everything, if he hadn’t done that then your relationship wouldn’t have ended.

You had thought about reaching out to him but by then Lance was too involved in his career, focused on training to go for the gold, so you forced yourself to move on, believing that he did as well. You’ve dated since, having a steady boyfriend in college but splitting after graduation, your careers were taking you on different paths. New York was full of men, some great, some awful, but none like Lance.

You questioned everything now, every interaction between you. Would Lance have opened up about his mom if Heather interviewed him? Was there something more behind way his mouth curved into a smile when he looked at you, or the gentle brushes of his fingers against yours?

You begin to type an apology to Lance but deleted everything in favor of calling him, owing him a verbal explanation. The phone rang once before he picked it up, sounding like he rushed to answer.

“I’m sorry for running out like that,” you admitted.  
“You have nothing to apologize for.”

“I do. I was really upset after what happened. You shouldn’t have said anything to those jerks but I understand your reasoning. I’m sorry that I never let you apologize, I just ended things on impulse and that was wrong. We deserved better.”

 _We._  It stood out like a full moon against the dark night’s sky, giving Lance hope that maybe, if he was ever lucky enough to have his dreams come true, you would once again believe in the two of you.

Your conversation lasted a few more minutes, both of you coming to an understanding, finding closure to what happened and agreeing to move forward.

When Lance picked you up the next day your greeting was a little awkward. You chuckled under your breath, unsure of what to say until you wrapped your arms around him. Lance’s whole body relaxed against yours as he inhaled your familiar scent that he had grown used to over the last few days. He was overjoyed that you resolved things, tears pricking his eyes as he squeezed tighter, never wanting to let you go. After a few more moments you both dropped your arms, sharing a smile before starting the day.

Lance had an interview set up with a local reporter, who was very welcoming to meet you when she thought you were his girlfriend, and upon finding out otherwise and your position at ESPN she asked for privacy during her meeting.

You obliged her request and stepped away to check in with your parents. They were on the last stop of their cruise and telling you about how beautiful Cozumel is.

“How’s your interview going?” your mom asked.  
“It was a little rocky at first but things are really good,” you said, laughing to yourself as you never imagined things between you and Lance would ever been good again.

After his interview you went to lunch, with Lance happily surprised when he noticed you gradually shifting closer to him. With his phone buzzing he looked disappointed as he checked it, he had been looking out for any correspondence about his appeal. It was weighing on his mind and rightfully so, his lawyer had told him the decision should be in any day now.

“If I win this it would mean so much.” He previously explained how being a USA Gymnastics accredited facility would alleviate some of the financial burden. Lance cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice, “I just want to make her proud again.”

Tears formed in his eyes and you knew he was talking about his mom. Your hand went over his, rubbing them gently as you reassured Lance, “She’s always been proud of you.”

“I’m supposed to see her later, I can drop you off first if–”  
You cut him off, adding you would love to see Dorothy if he didn’t mind. Lance smiled in response.

Driving down your old street with Lance felt weird, it was familiar and strange at the same time. You looked at your parent’s old house, seeing the exterior was now painted in a cornflower blue and you didn’t like it. Looking at his childhood home you noticed not much had changed except for the landscape design, with bright pink zinnias now growing under the window.

Shutting the car off Lance prepared you for his mother’s appearance but seeing her still broke your heart as you made your way into the large living room. Dorothy had lost a lot of weight, her skin was covered in dark splotches of bruises, a side effect from the chemotherapy. She wore a head wrap to cover her scalp, her salt and pepper hair nearly all gone though a few uneven patches remained.

She sat in an armchair, watching TV with her aide beside her, attempting to get her to drink some of a nutritional shake through a straw. Lance went in, getting her attention with his greeting as he carefully kissed her cheek and hugged her.

He turned to her aide, Nadia who smiled, whispering to him that she’s had a good day so far. Dorothy’s cancer, as you had looked up, affected her memory and it was unpredictable to know when she would lapse.

“Look who’s here, mom.” You stepped forward as Lance announced, “It’s Y/N, Y/L/N.”

Dorothy smiled widely, “Y/N! Oh my I haven’t seen you in years,” she said, her voice had grown older, and now laced with fatigue.

“Hi Dorothy,” you said, bending down to gently hug her, and wiping a few stray tears from the side of your eyes after you pulled away.

She turned the TV off and you sat beside Lance on the couch so you could catch up with each other. She asked how your parents were, mentioning she had lost their phone number (or couldn’t remember it, but you didn’t say anything) so you said you would write it down for her.

She told you about her diagnosis and gushed about how helpful and supportive Lance has been. You read into her expression, the sadness she held back, trying to hide the finality of her illness, perhaps for Lance’s sake you wondered.

She complained about her hair, scratching an itch through the fabric that surrounded her scalp, and made a negative comment about herself.

“Don’t say that mom, you’re beautiful,” Lance boasted.  
“I’m an old woman,” she pouted, “If you’re talking about beautiful look at Y/N. Look at you, a grown woman now!”  
“She’s gorgeous,” Lance declared with a wide smile spreading across his face.

Dorothy insisted you stay for dinner. She didn’t have much of an appetite but she would sit with you all the same. Lance fired up the barbeque outside as you prepared the burger patties, along with some corn to be roasted. Dinner was lovely and Dorothy ate a quarter of her hamburger with some corn Lance had cut off from the cob to make it easier for her.

You washed dishes as Nadia helped Dorothy in the bathroom. She hated that she needed the assistance but over the last few months she had become very weak and couldn’t manage to do much without the fear of falling. You declined dessert but grabbed a dark chocolate bar for Dorothy from the pantry. Nadia broke off a small square and Dorothy placed it in her mouth, letting it dissolve on her tongue.

“I can’t…” Dorothy began, and all heads turned to face her. “I can’t remember your wedding dear,” she said, speaking to you. You side eyed Lance a concerned look. “I’m sorry, I can’t remember it but I know you looked beautiful. Lance, remember how beautiful she looked. Oh I was so happy for you two,” she sighed.

Based on her broken details you realized she meant your junior prom but no one corrected her. “I’m so happy you’re still together. I always knew you were meant for each other.”

You and Lance shared an awkward smile, making up was still so new but you tried to hide the discomfort from Dorothy.

You left shortly after so Dorothy could get to bed, promising to stay in touch. Lingering outside your hotel Lance thanked you for seeing his mom. You were glad you did, seeing the woman you considered a second mother once again after all of these years.

Your cheeks began to heat up feeling Lance’s eyes on you, looking up to see him he turned away and blushed. You weren’t sure why you were nervous but the butterflies in your stomach were fluttering around rapidly.

“I guess I’m gonna go,” you stated.  
“Oh, okay. Goodnight Y/N,” he said, his blue eyes focused on you.

You twisted in your seat to kiss him goodbye, intending on going for his cheek. Lance leaned in as well, awkwardly turning to the wrong direction as he meant to do the same. Your heads nearly collided and you both chuckled softly, finding each other’s eyes again. Time stood still, all of the sound around you became a quiet hum. Your gaze went to his plush lips, his tongue dragging across to wet them. Your teeth slowly grazed your bottom lip, letting go once your eyes met his again, seeing his pupils dark and hungry.

The gap between you was slowly closing until your lips hovered mere centimeters apart, feeling his hot breath fall on your lips. Shutting your eyes you pushed forward to press your lips to his. It was a slow kiss, soft and passionate with years of emotion built behind it.

When Lance opened his mouth slightly to run his tongue along your bottom lip you felt the fire that was simmering inside you ignite to a full blaze. You pulled away, knowing it would be best to say goodnight right then instead of good morning tomorrow. Sauntering back towards the hotel you turned around to wave goodbye one last time flashing a coy smile before heading inside.


	10. Chapter 10

Waking up the next morning you felt happier than you have in a long time. It felt so good to have resolved your issues with Lance and as your fingertips gently caressed your lips you couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt to kiss him again. Your happiness dissipated as you looked at your phone. It was flooded with notifications for your birthday.

Getting older is not something you particularly enjoyed. You remember being a kid and thinking you couldn’t wait to be older, now it was the opposite. You desperately wished you could turn back time, a good ten years would do it but you’d settle for three.

Thirty-two was a number you didn’t want to acknowledge. You had officially entered the last year of what you considered your early 30’s. You had accomplished a lot of things by thirty-two, you had a great job doing something you actually loved, a cramped but nice apartment in the city, and a passport full of stamps denoting the many places you’ve been lucky enough to visit.

You tried to remember the good things as you shook your fists at the grey hairs that started to come in ( _they’re from stress_ , you convinced yourself), or the skincare products recommended to you for aging skin ( _but it’s preventative_ , you repeated).

You scrolled through everything from texts and Facebook messages to a voicemail from your parents. You frowned wishing you could have seen them today but hearing their message singing to you off key made you smile. You scanned through a few more messages but decided to respond later, you didn’t have plans with Lance today; it was Sunday and it was early so you were sleeping in.

The phone buzzing on the nightstand woke you again. Without seeing the caller you answered in a groggy voice.

“I need to see you, it’s important,” Lance said, sounding panicked.  
You sat up quickly, throwing your legs over the side of the bed, “What’s going on? Is everything okay?”  
“I’m on my way there, fifteen minutes.  _Please_  I don’t want to waste any time, we have to go.”  
“Alright, alright,” you said and he hung up without saying anything.

You didn’t appreciate having to jump out of bed the way you did, wishing you could have slept a little longer before heading to the pool to relax, something you hope there would still be time for later. Dressing quickly you put on some mascara, made sure you didn’t have bedhead and got downstairs just as Lance was pulling up.

“Hey,” you said, putting on your seatbelt and waiting for a response that never came.

Dark sunglasses blocked his eyes but you saw by the tension in his mouth and the way he gripped the steering wheel that something was wrong.

“Lance is everything okay? Is it your mom?” You worried so much after seeing her and hoped nothing had happened.

“No, she’s fine,” he snapped.

His reply was a little too rude for your liking but you didn’t want to start a fight, not knowing the urgent reason he needed to pick you up. You thought of everything, from hearing a negative response to his appeal to someone breaking in to the gymnastics center.

You were so lost in thought you didn’t realize where he was driving. It wasn’t until you saw the sign for Weeki Wachee Springs that you gasped. Turning towards Lance you saw the smile on his face.

“Lance?” you questioned as your own mouth was pulled into a smile.  
He beamed, taking off his sunglasses, “It was so hard to keep a straight face!”

Parking the car, he got out, running to your side to give you a hug. “Happy Birthday Y/N,” he said, feeling his breath on the shell of your ear as his strong arms wrapped around you.

“You remembered!”

Lance had never forgotten your birthday and he knew, based on your conversation with his mom yesterday, that you would be alone today. He wanted to do something special for you and he couldn’t think of a better place to take you.

“Come on,” he said extending his hand which you gladly took, lacing your fingers with his, “The show’s gonna start soon.”

Weeki Wachee was famous for its mermaid shows, beautiful women wearing fish tails and performing underwater; it was incredible. Seeing  _The Little Mermaid_  made you obsessed with mermaids, so when your parents took you to see “real” ones at Weeki Wachee you freaked out.

The small theatre had a large curved window with an underwater view. Taking your seats Lance placed his arm on the back of your chair and you shifted closer to him. Looking around you realized you were the oldest people there without children but you didn’t care; there is no age limit for loving mermaids.

The show began with a song, a man sounding like a crooner from the 1950’s singing about Weeki Wachee as the mermaids swam in and lip synced their parts while performing a choreographed routine. The song was admittedly cheesy and you giggled with Lance under your breath. A curtain of bubbles spread throughout the viewing window and then the show began, it was their interpretation Hans Christian Anderson’s tale. It was amazing to watch the show as an adult, realizing the women were all holding tubes in their hands, getting their oxygen from it a few times per minute. It was something you somehow didn’t notice as a child, instead focusing on the elegant way they swam and how their tails shimmered in the light.

When the show ended you strolled along a walking trail, hand in hand as you made your way to the docks. There was a small boat that set out on the river so you waited to board, sharing a smile with an older couple who were there with their grandchildren. When the boat set off you looked out at the water, it was crystal clear and so beautiful and for a moment it made you wonder why you ever left Florida.

As you stared at the water in awe Lance did the same towards you, with adoration in his eyes and a smile cemented on his face. He loved how excited you got over seeing a bird landing on the surface, or watching the sea turtles swim by.

“Lance!” you exclaimed, excitedly pointing towards the pair of manatees that breached the water.

There was a wildlife show that you both decided to skip in favor of heading back. It was a quick drive back to your hotel and once again you found yourself stalling as you sat in his car.

“I was not expecting this at all today, thank you so much Lance.”

“You’re welcome.” He smiled at you then looked away, taking a deep breath to steady his nerves. “I, uh, I made dinner reservations for tonight and… was hoping you’d join me,” he nervously said, scanning your features for any signs of hesitance or rejection. His anxious smile spread into a large grin when you agreed.

Kissing each other goodbye you found yourself in your hotel room, not remembering if you took the elevator up because you could swear you were floating. Stripping your clothes off you hopped in the shower, reliving the day’s events in your mind, laughing at his plan to surprise you. It was adorable; growing up he would always make your birthday special and you’d be lying if you didn’t admit your heart was swelling at his gesture today.

You stayed wrapped in a towel for a while after you’d gotten out of the shower. With plenty of time to spare before Lance picked you up you took the time to rub lotion onto your skin and tweeze any stray eyebrow hairs while returning the call to your parents.

You had only brought another dress with you and thankfully it felt perfect for the evening. The [wine colored dress](https://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fwww.lulus.com%2Fproducts%2Fready-to-ruffle-wine-red-midi-dress%2F274602.html&t=OWRkMDY5MGRiNjJkMjA4MjllMWFlODllZmQxNDFhZjkyOTM1ZmY3OCxFNXZaeVk1UQ%3D%3D&b=t%3A4IBk3eqNX5h7cHTV4pcqRQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fmoonbeambucky.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F175540802261%2Fpriceofgoldpart10) fell at your knees with ruffles running along the deep v-neckline. Your hair was styled exactly as you imagined, and your makeup was perfect, neutral with a subtle smoky vibe. Your lipstick was a on the natural side with a hint of shimmer to it though you debated going bold with a dark berry.

That might have been too much though, this wasn’t a date,  _right_? It was just dinner amongst friends, or recently reacquainted friends… who happen to be exes… and might still have feelings for each other? Oh shit this is a date! You’re ashamed to admit it’s been too long since the last time you’ve been on one.

A knock on the door startled you out of your nervous thoughts. Looking through the peephole you were surprised to see Lance, opening the door for him. He stood there, forgetting how to breath as he stared at you.

“You’re stunning,” he said, staring in astonishment and making you feel flustered as your cheeks began to heat up. Lance handed you an arrangement of roses. He thought all red would come on too strong so there were varying colors from deep reds to soft pinks and corals, all beautifully put together in a vase.

“These are beautiful, you didn’t have to…” you began before he cut you off with a kiss on your cheek.

“Yes, I did. I have a lot of birthdays to make up for,” he claimed.

Placing the flowers on the table you turned to face Lance, looking sharp in all black, even wearing a tie. His hair looked soft without gel in it and his lips, oh those sinful lips, looked very inviting. You cupped his cheeks softly, bringing yourself closer to him as you thanked him with a kiss. Once again you had to stop yourself from getting too carried away.

With your arm wrapped around his you left the hotel room and headed out to dinner. Lance had made reservations at a steak house about thirty minutes south. You were hungry but didn’t mind the drive, because it meant more time you’d be with Lance. Part of you wondered who you had become. It’s amazing how much you changed in less than a week. You were very reluctant on coming back to Spring Hill but with the way things have been going you wondered if you and Lance were given a second chance.

The sky was streaked purple with an orange glow fading in the horizon but as you entered the steakhouse everything was dark. Heavy velvet curtains were draped along the paneled glass window blocking out the lingering daylight. The room was longer than it was wide and there was a masculine scent wafting through the air. It reminded you of a Victorian study, with its mixture of leather bound books, whiskey and smoke. Exposed brick ran along the wall with dimly light sconces spaced a few feet from each other. There was a long bar made of rich, dark wood stocked with expensive aged liquors and a variety of wine. 

The Maître D’ led you through the crowded room finding you a quieter table towards the back. After pulling out the studded leather upholstered chair for you to sit you didn’t miss a folded bill making its way from Lance’s hand to his. While you didn’t need a fancy dinner but you appreciated Lance going all out.

The candle flickering on the table bathed you and Lance in a shimmery golden light and you couldn’t stop yourself from looking at him. Watching as he looked over the menu you sighed deeply, unable to stop yourself from smiling. During the night you found yourselves naturally leaning closer to one another, your hands finding their way together.

Dinner was followed up by champagne and dessert, along with an occasional chaste peck, you were in public after all. It was a beautiful evening, one that you didn’t want to end.

“I don’t know what this,” you gestured between the two of you, “is, but I like it and I think we should go slow,” you said, with a nervous smile.

Lance smiled, lifting your hand to his lips, “I like this too,” he paused to kiss them, “and I agree.”

After driving back to the hotel Lance walked you up to your door. Sliding the card into the slot a green light came on and you turned the handle, holding the door open before you went in.

“I had a wonderful time tonight. Thank you for making my birthday so special.”  
With your hand still in his Lance smiled, “You deserve nothing less.”

Lance leaned in to say goodnight, pressing your lips against his own for a soft parting kiss and slowly he let your hand go as he turned to walk away.

“Wait!” you yelled.

As he walked back you felt a ravenous need overtake you. Lance was walking back slowly like an unsuspecting zebra and you were a lion ready to pounce and have your feast. Before he could ask why you called him back you pulled him inside your room by his tie, bringing his lips to yours for a hungry kiss as the door shut behind you.


	11. Chapter 11

Lance was taken aback by the way you grabbed him, you were needy and he wanted to give you everything you wanted to take. His body was buzzing, he felt more alive than when he was at the Olympics. You, his first love, his only love if he was being honest with himself, were back in his arms again. It was like his dream but only better because it was real.

His body jolted when your tongue slipped its way into his mouth and met his own. In that moment Lance, swallowed a moan and stepped back, “I thought we agreed to go slow.”

If it wasn’t for the sweetness laced in his voice you would have felt terribly rejected, but you understood what he was staying, they  _were_ your own words. “I know but, I missed you,” you admitted, breathing heavily as you caught your breath.

Lance stared at your heaving chest, licking his lips and feeling his pants twitch. Thankfully his northern brain took over as he took your hands in his own, placing kisses on both of them, “I’m not going anywhere. Let’s not rush things okay? If whatever we are means you’re back in my life I don’t want to ruin it.”

You shared a sweet smile and let him leave but not without a few more kisses, it was your birthday after all.

Lance picked you up the next morning and you practically bounced into the car, excitedly kissing him hello. On the drive to the gymnastics center you had agreed to keep your “thing” a secret. Parents of potential students would be coming in today thanks to an open house promotion he had posted on social media.

Laura greeted you with a hug that you were expecting and you returning it back with equal enthusiasm. You had a lot to be happy about and frankly your cheeks were aching with the amount of smiling you had done in the last twenty-four hours.

You stood on the sidelines observing Lance and Laura fielding customers that walked in, some alone and some with children. It was mostly women but when a father and his young son came in you didn’t miss the look on Lance’s face. Laura spoke with the man but when Lance overheard the encouraging words he had about his son learning gymnastics Lance asked to take over.

You shadowed him with the pair, walking around the open floor. The boy, Fernando, was holding his father’s hand but was itching to jump onto the mat. Lance bent down to speak with him, promising both Fernando and his father William that he would teach the boy everything he knows.

You saw the way Lance looked at the pair, wishing his own father was half as encouraging, no– that was a lie, he wished Mitch was encouraging, period. William didn’t hesitate to register and Fernando was more than excited to begin.

More people had come in and you watched as Lance would thoroughly explain the programs Tucker Gymnastics offered. In between answering questions he would look your way quickly, with his mouth slightly pulling to a smile but he focused back on the customers, sometimes a little too much. It didn’t go unnoticed that he was extra smiley when attractive women came in. You wondered if flirting was a sales tactic.

It made you uneasy and you tried to reason that he was just being nice and wanted their business. Then again his phone was still always going off with text messages. You didn’t like it, knowing that he was still communicating with who knows how many women, but whatever was between you was still new and undefined. It took a lot to remind yourself you are not his girlfriend.

It sure felt like you were though when later that night you were cuddling together on his couch watching a movie. It felt like old times when you were together, having movie marathons and throwing popcorn in each other’s mouths.

Lance was warm and soft, and yet you felt his toned abs tense as your arm stretched across his stomach. Occasionally you would look up towards him with the urge to straddle him and bury your face in his neck but you kept yourself in check, stealing kisses instead.

Neither of you realized you had fallen asleep until the morning. You groaned uncomfortably, sitting up and slowly moving your stiff neck around. Yawning as you rubbed your tired eyes you finally opened them, looking around you realized that you weren’t in your hotel room but in Lance’s house. He was beside you leaning against the corner of the couch with one leg on the cushions and the other dangling down.

You got up slowly to use the bathroom. Finding some toothpaste you put a dab on your finger and did your best to freshen your mouth. Using a tissue you tried to clean up your mascara that had actually stayed put until you unknowingly rubbed the sleep from your eyes– you needed makeup remover. Rolling your neck again you heard things crack, you needed a massage, and with another big yawn you definitely needed coffee.

Settling back on the couch you watched the rise and fall of Lance’s chest as he peacefully, yet uncomfortably slept. The sleeve of his t-shirt bunched up revealing his toned arms and a prominent vein that ran down his bicep, it was mesmerizing. Watching Lance sleep was cute but the day was just beginning and so he needed to wake up.

You whispered his name softly but Lance didn’t stir. Moving closer, you spoke again, your breath falling softly against his skin, “It’s time to wake up Lance.” He took a sharp breath in, peeking one eye open and cracking a smile.

“Good morning gorgeous,” he said in a raspy tone.

He pulled you against him, asking how you slept and offering to work out the tightness in your neck after you told him how it felt. “Maybe later,” you winked.

Lance asked if you wanted to take a shower which sounded nice but the prospect of changing back into the clothes you had worn all day yesterday and then fell asleep in was not something you wanted to do. Lance got up and stretched, his t-shirt rising to reveal part of his tan stomach and you couldn’t help but stare.

“Try not to drool on the couch, okay?” he joked, kissing your cheek before going upstairs to shower.

You made coffee for yourself and readied a cup for when Lance was done, scrolling through your phone as you sipped the warm brew to pass the time. You waited about ten minutes after you heard the shower stop before bringing the mug upstairs, knocking on Lance’s bedroom door.

He opened the door shirtless, with a pair of sweatpants hanging low on his insanely chiseled hips. Never, ever did you think the skinny boy next door would achieve the cuts on his body that would melt you down like ice cream in the sun.

He turned to grab the coffee and your eyes were drawn lower to the large chunk of his infamous tattoo sticking out just below his navel. The thought of his “gold” made you giggle and yet you couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

Lance thanked you for the coffee, or at least you think he did, you were too busy licking your lips at the sight of him to have noticed any other senses. You let him finish dressing alone, knowing neither of you would have made it to the center otherwise.

Heading back to your hotel first Lance sat on your bed as you took a shower, only washing your body quickly as time seemed to get away from you earlier. Makeup was minimal, your hair was not looking its best but it’s nothing a little product couldn’t fix. You changed into a chiffon mauve top patterned with small white flowers and black pants. Opening the door you collided with Lance’s hard body.

“They did it!” He was smiling proudly and your confused face searched his for more answers. “The committee, I’m back!”

You threw your arms around Lance congratulating him with a hug. He wrapped his arms around your waist, lifting you up and spinning around. When he stopped it felt like everything around him stopped as well. Sunlight from the balcony was shining on your face, its soft glow highlighting the beautiful color of your eyes, sparkling with happiness, to your smile, wide and proud. You  _were_ proud of him and he was elated. For the first time in a long time Lance was truly happy.

Lance kissed you, tasting the sweetness of your lips, the mint mouthwash that lingered on your tongue. He deepened the kiss, swallowing every moan and whimper he pulled from you. Letting you down softly he held you against his body, not wanting to let go of this moment.

His phone began to buzz again and you moved to grab your heels. An announcement from USA Gymnastics was released and Lance’s Twitter had begun to blow up again from fans congratulating him to his former teammates and students praising the appeal.

Lance was all smiles as he drove to the center and you were slightly hesitant but had to ask if you could get a quote from him to write something quick for ESPN. The Associated Press had already retweeted the press release and Lance begun making arrangements with the local news but it would mean a lot to you (and your editor) if you could be the first to publish with a direct quote.

Lance had agreed and after arriving at the center and being nearly tackled to the ground by Laura’s enthusiastic hug you and Lance went to his office where you pulled out your laptop. You already knew what this appeal meant, the bigger story behind it; Lance wanted to make his mom proud again. Not that he ever lost it, Dorothy was always proud of her son, but he felt he wasn’t deserving of it after his win turned him into a Grade A Asshole™. You wanted to save that story for your main article so instead you asked about the future.

The appeal meant Lance was reinstated as an official USA Gymnastics accredited coach which was excellent news for Tucker Gymnastics but what about Lance?

##  _Reinstated gymnast Tucker claims “I would love to coach the National Team!”_

That was the headline for your article and yes it was 100% click bait but that’s how the news is today you carelessly shrugged. When you asked about the future Lance did say if given the opportunity he would love to coach the National Team again but for now he’s staying put, more than happy to be where he is provided the building blocks to future gymnasts right here.

More customers entered the gym thanks to the buzz and Lance told you a local news crew was on their way. You quickly reviewed your article and sent it off to Sue, leaving a message on her voicemail as well to let her know the urgency.

Cameras were there to capture Lance talking about how thankful he was to be reinstated. You smiled with adoration as you watched him answer the reporters as you kept your distance off to the side. Apparently you were not far enough as you thought, finding out when your mom called you.

“Honey did I just see you on TV with Lance Tucker?”

 _Oh boy._  “Wait, you’re back?” you said, ignoring her question.

“Yes we got in this morning and as I was loading the washing machine I heard the report and then there you were! Lance is your assignment… is that why you didn’t tell me?” she asked, knowing the answer already.

You hummed your answer, worried she might be upset with you for holding back but instead she asked how you were.

“Good actually, better than expected,” you paused to take a deep breath before hesitantly admitting, “We worked things out actually.” You heard her worried exhale through the phone. “Mom it’s okay, he apologized, I apologized. We’ve moved on, we’re adults now.”

“Just be careful sweetheart,” she said.

You changed the subject asking about their cruise to which she replied she would tell you another time. She wanted to unpack and go through the mail first before she could relax.

“Oh, before I go I almost forgot, I got a message from Dorothy… no wonder,” she mused. “I’m so sorry to hear about that. When I called her back the nurse said they were leaving for the hospital.”

“What? When?” you panicked.  
“About an hour ago.”

You hung up quickly, running to find Lance who was in the middle of an interview. Apologizing to the reporter you interrupted, pulling him aside and whispering for him to check his phone. There were four missed calls from Nadia along with a text, leaving details of what hospital they were going to.

Doing his best to keep a neutral face Lance apologized to the reporter for having to end their interview so abruptly. His jaw was tense but he was doing everything he could to keep his emotions together, his mother’s health and privacy were no one’s business.

Lance sped away towards the hospital with you, his hand laced with yours as you gave him comforting squeezes until you arrived. Dorothy was in the emergency room with Nadia patting her forehead with a damp towel. Lance rushed to her side, grabbing her hand and kissing it as he tried to get her attention.

Dorothy was delirious and slightly dehydrated so she was hooked up with an I.V. for fluids. The small room was cramped with the three of you surrounding the bed, Nadia left to tell the desk that Dorothy’s son had arrived. Lance sat in a chair, still holding Dorothy’s hand and you stood behind him, comfortingly rubbing his shoulders.

“It’ll be okay,” you said, knowing full well you had no idea if it would but you hoped so.

With tears in his eyes Lance replied, “What if it’s not? What if this is it?”

He choked on his words as his hand sought yours on his shoulder. As the machines beeped steadily silence hung uncomfortably thick in the air.

Waiting was the worst. Nurses had come in sporadically to check Dorothy’s vitals. Nadia had left to bring back snacks and drinks. Lance wasn’t hungry, his stomach was twisted into knots as he watched his mom, but you insisted he at least have a sports drink; there was no need to have him get sick on top of this.

A doctor finally came in to say he wanted Dorothy to be admitted upstairs. Another hour had passed by without anyone coming to transport her so Lance decided both of you should leave. “Nadia do you mind driving Y/N back to her hotel?”

“I can stay, I don’t mind,” you said.

“I know but you shouldn’t have to. It’s gonna be a while to get her up there. Plus I want to speak with whatever doctor will be in charge.”

His eyes pleaded for you to go, this was his burden he felt and even though you wanted to stay he would prefer you didn’t.

“Keep me posted, please,” you asked.

You rubbed Dorothy’s hand, saying goodbye to her though you weren’t sure if she could hear you or not. You hugged Lance, pecking him quickly on the lips before leaving.

You were worried sick the rest of the day, checking your phone constantly for updates. After getting out of the shower you saw Lance had texted back, Dorothy was in a room, was given a second bag of fluids and Lance was still waiting to speak to the doctor on call.

Your stomach grumbled, loudly yelling at you since you hadn’t eaten any real food in a while. You threw on clothes and went two blocks down to  _Hooter’s_ , the closest restaurant within walking distance. Sitting at the bar you ordered a beer and wings. Watching the Yankee game you were reminded about confirming your schedule with Aaron Judge’s agent. It suddenly hit you that this– being in Spring Hill, being with Lance Tucker, this was temporary. Your job was travelling but your home was New York,  _right?_

Taking another swig from the bottle you tried to avoid having an existential crisis in the middle of the restaurant. This was a conversation for another time and right now Dorothy’s health was more important. Lance hadn’t texted in a while; no news is good news you hoped.

With a full belly you enjoyed the cool night’s air on the walk back to the hotel. Changing into a tank top and your favorite pineapple print pajama bottoms you couldn’t stay focused between flipping through the limited channels on the TV or mindlessly scrolling through your phone so you forced yourself to go to sleep, hoping that rest would help calm your mind.

Your phone woke you up and you saw Lance’s name, swiping quickly to answer his call. His voice was shaky as he asked if he could see you. Apparently he was in the parking lot and in no time was at your door. His eyes were bloodshot, his nose red and sniffling and you opened your arms to him immediately.


	12. Chapter 12

Lance’s tears drenched your neck and you held him tighter as your mind was thinking the worst. He broke away from you to grab a tissue from the bathroom, wiping his eyes and blowing his nose before he sat on the bed. He looked so small, hunched over with his head hanging low.

He explained that the cancer is spreading to other parts of his mother’s brain. Walking in front of him you ran your fingers through his hair gently and felt him ease into your touch.

Lance looked up at you with sad, tear filled eyes, “I don’t want to lose her,” he sobbed, wrapping his arms around your waist, pressing his face against your stomach.

You held him close, rubbing comforting circles on his back not quite knowing what to say. At some point you ended up laying beside him on the bed as he clung to your body, eventually falling asleep out of pure exhaustion.

Once again you found yourself waking up together, this time with Lance apologizing for disturbing your sleep last night though you insisted he didn’t trouble you. Lance needed some fresh air, stepping out on the balcony he leaned against the railing, breathing in the scent of fresh cut grass. You came out beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

Lance straightened up, allowing you to slip your arm around his waist and lean your head against him. “What are you going to do now?” you asked.

“They mentioned hospice care but I know she doesn’t want that, she wants to be at home.” You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers together as you gave him a look of solidarity. “Plus there’s no telling when.”

Lance always knew that treatment would only prolong Dorothy’s life but it was never a cure. With the cancer spreading it could be days or weeks or a month or two if they were lucky.

Rubbing your thumb against his you asked, “Is there anything I can do?”  
“No. I’m gonna get Nadia so we can bring her home. After she’s settled maybe I can see you?” he asked, putting his sneakers back on.

You asked again if he was sure, you wanted to help him anyway you could and staying here made you feel a little useless.

“She’s not in the best head space. I think the less stimulation right now the better.” He said, giving you sad smile. You understood, he wanted Dorothy to be comfortable.

“But I’m glad you’re here,” he added, kissing you softly before leaving.

Your stomach was rumbling so you quickly threw on a bra and a baggy shirt, leaving your pj’s on and made your way down to the breakfast area. Thankfully it wasn’t very crowded and most of the people sitting there were occupied by the TV. You filled your plate with some toast, grabbing a small packet of butter and a mini muffin. After pouring batter into the waffle maker you sipped on some orange juice as you waited for it to cook.

You had a view of the front desk from your table and watched as people were towing luggage in hand to check out. You recognized the family that you sat beside in this very dining area over a week ago during your first encounter with Lance. My how things had changed.

Since you were going to be alone today you decided to grab your bikini and sit poolside. You had intended to do this on your birthday but Lance’s surprise had changed your plans. Back upstairs you ensured the side strings were securely fastened on your purple bikini and threw on a loose cover up dress.

Laying a towel against plastic lounge chair you sat back and relaxed. It was nice to take in this moment. New York was always  _go, go, go!_  From the people to the work, it was a constant rush. Laying down with the sun warming your skin and music in your ears you were finally able to just do nothing. It made you think about the last time you took a real vacation. You’ve been to amazing places because of work but to go somewhere and do something for yourself was something you really needed to do again, hopefully sooner than later.

It was still early in the afternoon when Lance texted to let you know that he was on his way back. Putting your cover up back on you gathered your things and went back upstairs to wait for Lance. Soon after he was at your door and you wrapped your arms around him for a much needed hug.

“How is she?”  
Lance sighed, “Better, for now.”

Lance eyed up and down and bit his lip. “And what are you wearing?” he said, twirling you around, eyes widening at the deep v opening in the back that exposed the ties of your bikini top. “I like it,” he smirked.

You giggled, “I was down by the pool when you called.”

“You went to this pool but not mine?” he feigned hurt, “Oh no, we have to fix that. Come on.” Lance took your arm and began to walk you towards the door.

“Wait, wait!” you laughed. Lance seemed like himself again but you were still concerned for him. “Are you sure you want to…” You didn’t quite finish your sentence, unsure of what you would have asked him– Have fun? Pretend your mom isn’t dying?

He answered as if he could read your mind, “Trust me, Y/N, I could use the distraction.”

His eyes pleaded with you and you understood. After a long day in the hospital, with uncertainty around the corner Lance deserved a moment to enjoy himself.

You packed a change of clothes and headed out with Lance to his house. Neither of you had eaten lunch, Lance had been too preoccupied to eat, so you stood in his kitchen, working in tandem to make a salad. You were rinsing the kale, blueberries and raspberries as Lance took out precooked quinoa, feta cheese and began slicing an avocado. You mixed the ingredients together in a large bowl and Lance added slice almonds on top.

“Can’t forget the nuts,” he said with a suggestive smirk on his face that had you bursting out with laughter.  
“Oh my god you’re such a child!” you joked, playfully shoving his arm.

Lance topped off the salad with a lemon poppy seed dressing and you mixed everything together before dividing the contents into smaller bowls. You sat at a table on the veranda talking about the grand opening in two days.

“I’m definitely excited. I have to order banners with the USA Gymnastics logo on it now that I’m on board with them again, I just didn’t have the time with everything going on.”

“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help? I know she has Nadia but maybe a familiar face would be nice?” you suggested.

Lance chewed his forkful, shaking his head. He was worried, Dorothy’s mind was still fragile and he didn’t want anything to push her over the edge. You didn’t push the issue anymore, respecting his wishes. When the bowls were empty Lance got up, pressing his lips to yours for a quick kiss saying he would be right back, and taking them into the kitchen.

His phone buzzed on the table and you glanced over, checking the notification incase it was Nadia or something related to Dorothy. The moment you saw a different woman’s name your heart sank. Since you’ve been down here the only text you’ve received from a guy was an automated message from your dentist’s office, and while Dr. David was cute he was also married.

You and Lance were growing closer as you reconnected but to be fair nothing was official, and despite all of the texts you hadn’t actually seen Lance respond to these women, not in front of you at least. It still hurt though, and you really wanted to throw his phone in the pool out of spite but maybe there was another way you could get your frustration out…

Walking towards his pool you stared at the pristine water and upon hearing Lance walking back outside you lifted your cover up dress over your head and tossed it aside. Lance held his breath staring at you from behind, biting his lip as he took in your form.

“Jesus,” he said under his breath. Walking next to you, his eyes were bulging as he caught a glimpse of your front, staring at your breasts in the bikini top and wondering what he’s done to deserve such a beautiful sight.

“Reminds me of my parent’s pool,” you said, staring straight at the water, though you could feel Lance’s gaze on you. “Except theirs didn’t have a crack in it like yours.”

“Huh?” Lance was pulled away from his sinful thoughts and back to reality. “Where?”

You pointed towards the bottom of the far side of the pool, “Don’t you see?”

Lance squinted, leaning forward to follow the direction of where you pointed. He suddenly felt two palms against his back that propelled him forward and into the pool. Lance wiped the water from his eyes, standing up in disbelief that you pushed him, in his clothes, into the pool!

Your laughter floated through the air as you saw his shocked expression, which only made you laugh even harder.

“You think this is funny?” he asked, “My sneakers feel so weird,” he chuckled, the hem of his shirt floating on the surface of the water.

Walking through the water closer towards you Lance laid his arms against the edge of the pool, resting his chin upon them and smirking at you.

You squatted down, giggling at him, “I can’t believe you fell for that!”

You smiled widely at Lance watching a bead of water trail down his cheek and onto his soaked arm and what looked to be an expensive watch.

“Oh shit! Your watch!” you exclaimed, your mouth covering your face as you felt terrible at the thought of ruining it. The white band stood out against his tanned skin and how you didn’t notice it before is beyond you.

Lance stood up again, looking down at his wrist he pressed his lips together with concern, letting you continue to apologize knowing full well the watch was waterproof.

“Hmmm I’m not sure if it still works. Do you know what time it is?” he raised his brow looking up at you.

Your own phone was beside his on the table and before you could get up to check Lance’s hand clasped around your wrist, and with a determined look in his eyes he spoke, “It’s payback time!”

With that, he pulled you into the water, laughing hysterically that you were caught off guard. It wasn’t as satisfying considering you were already wearing the appropriate attire but still, he surprised you.

Rising up above the water you wiped your face, laughing and double checking that everything was still covered by your bikini. Lance took notice too, his eyes were drawn to your hardened nipples through the fabric. You took deeper breaths watching as he stared at you. It felt familiar and yet you were scared; if you let go of the past with Lance Tucker then what would that mean? A future?

Doing the only rational thing you could you splashed him to break the tension. It wasn’t the same as when you were kids, the former skinny beanpole was now a tall and muscular man who was able to create much stronger splashes in his retaliation.

Holding your hands up you yelled, “Okay, okay! I give up! Truce?” you innocently asked.

Lance agreed but with all your might you whipped up the water throwing it in his face and swam away to the other side of the pool. Lance followed behind you, awkwardly kicking as his sneakers begun to weigh him down. He swam up beside you, caging you in his arms at the edge of the pool.

“You thought I wouldn’t follow you?” he laughed. “I’m not scared of the deep end anymore sweetheart.”

Your heart was fluttering wildly as you heard it beating in your ear. Being trapped between Lance’s arms and hard body made you feel warm all over. You were in the deep end now in more ways than one and it was time to sink or swim.

Pushing your head forward you captured Lance’s lips in a searing kiss, pressing yourself closer to his shirt covered chest and wrapping your arms around his neck. Opening your mouth you deepened the kiss and Lance matched you with equal fervor, your tongues reuniting with each other after being apart for so long.

Lance let one hand go to wrap around your body, wanting to keep you close and never let go. He swallowed every moan that fell from your lips, wanting to swim in a sea filled with sounds of your bliss. You pulled away for air, smiling as Lance kept stealing small kisses from you.

Motioning with your head to follow you Lance swam to the stairs, feeling the heaviness of his saturated clothing weighing him down as he climbed out. You were toweling off your body, bending over to dry your legs and giving Lance a perfect view of your ass. He took a deep breath as he felt a twitch in his pants, the soaking wet pants he was about to take off and he really did not want anything to pop up and make you uncomfortable.

You laid down on his extra wide chaise, adjusting a pillow under your head as you waited for him to come over. You heard the squelching of his sneakers before he was even near you. Lance had slipped out of them, feeling the relief of no longer being suctioned into his shoes. His socks were drenched and smelly so he laid them out to dry far away from you.

His white t-shirt clung to the cuts of his muscles but you eyes were fixed while watching every muscle flex as he pulled himself out of the saturated shirt. His firm body was on display and you sucked your bottom lip into your mouth watching him. Unbuttoning his jeans Lance stepped out of them, revealing his black boxer briefs that showed off a prominent package.

Lance ran a towel along his body, soaking up as much water as he could before laying beside you, both of you letting the warm sun do the rest of the drying. Trees provided a barrier between him and his neighbors so it was quiet and serene. Being together again was nice. It was comforting to lace your fingers together or steal a kiss before you turned onto your stomach, being with Lance felt like home.

When you finally sat up you moved your neck from side to side, groaning a little at the stretch.

“Still sore?” Lanced asked and you confirmed. “I owe that massage, ya know.”

You sat cross legged in front of Lance, making sure your hair was out of the way. His thumbs rubbed small circles upwards on the side of your neck, sweeping down your shoulders. He increased pressure with each pass but kept his touch firm but light, wanting to warm up the muscles before working out the tension.

Being a hands on coach, Lance was well acquainted with the physical form, sometimes having to step in and help a gymnast work through a knot before a competition. Tight muscles were inevitable when you pushed your body as physically as gymnasts do, you on the other hand just hold your tension in your neck and back. When you’re not travelling you’re either sitting at a desk or on your couch with your laptop, with terrible posture as you write your articles, breaking only for coffee refills.

Lance made painful noises as he felt the large balls of tension that pulled at your muscle fibers.

“When was the last time you had a massage?” he asked, as he was adding more pressure to his kneading motions.  
“Uhhh….”

Your lack of a real answer spoke more words than you could say. Now that you’re thinking about it you rarely had time to treat yourself to anything. Having your dream job meant sacrificing a lot. Between days at the office and travelling the little time that you had for yourself was filled with menial tasks like laundry and cleaning, and since New York was so expensive you were not able to afford the things you wanted like massages and facials.

Lance’s skilled fingers continued to work your muscles and soon you were melting into his touch, forgetting to curb your moaning because everything felt so damn good! A satisfied smile spread across Lance’s face, he was not only helping you but making you feel good and that’s all he’s ever wanted to do.

“That good, huh?” he chuckled.

A wave of embarrassment washed over you. Turning your head back to face him you smiled shyly when you caught a glimpse at his smirk. Lance leaned in to press a sweet kiss to your lips before continuing to work on a particularly tight spot on your back. Satisfied hums continued to leave your mouth as you became putty in his hands.

Your head lolled to the side as Lance began to work both hands on your shoulder though he was becoming distracted. It was hard not to notice the way you reacted to his touch, watching your chest swell when he worked on a particularly tight spot and then release with a breathy moan.

The column of your neck was calling to him, like a siren singing out to a sailor and he was ready and willing to crash. Licking his lips he leaned in placing a gentle kiss at the top of your neck. Caught off guard by his actions you held your breath as Lance continued to slowly kiss his way down. When he reached the spot where your neck and collar met he licked his lips, sucking on your skin and making you gasp. He soothed the area with his tongue, kissing down further until he was at the curve of your shoulder, placing one last kiss before pulling away.

“Was that good?” he nervously asked.  
“Real good,” you affirmed.

Lance’s hands began to rub up your back and down your shoulders, stopping himself to plant kisses at the back of your neck, grazing his nose along your skin. You were squirming with delight, feeding your body to his hungry mouth. His hands began to roam, caressing up and down your arms and wrapping around your waist.

Whether Lance had inched closer to you or you had moved towards him you couldn’t say, all you knew is that you were now flush against his chest feeling his firm arousal pressing against you. He continued his assault on your neck, the wetness left by his tongue matching that in your warm center.

His hands grazed your sides, gently rubbing up and down, getting closer to the curve of your breasts with each pass. Heat began to radiate from your core as delicate fingers slipped beneath your bikini top. Lance traced your hardened peaks before cupping your breasts and you gasped. Kneading them with his hands he nipped at your neckline and you couldn’t take it anymore.

You turned your head back to kiss him, letting your tongue slip passed his lips while rocking your hips against him. Lance moved with you, deepening the kiss and pinching your nipple harder. His touch became too much and not enough at the same time.

You broke your connection briefly, turning around to face him before your lips were together again, tongues dancing with each other, teeth clashing together. You were both hungry with need, starving and yearning for desire and as you felt his hardened arousal pressed against you your thighs clenched together to quell the hot burning of your core. Your eyes were dark and filled with determination, you needed Lance Tucker like you needed air to breathe.

Lance’s hands were wrapped around you, pulling you as close to him as possible, worried that if he let go you’d be gone, that this was a dream. When he felt your hands cup his bulge he gasped.  _Fuck. FUCK! This is real!_ His moan is swallowed by your lips, and Lance is smiling through his kiss, in absolute disbelief that his dream was coming true.

Pushing against his chest Lance laid back, slowly palming his aching cock tenting though the material. He looked perfect, biting his bottom lip as he stared at you lustfully. As much as you wanted to draw this out you couldn’t wait any longer. Your hands went down to the hem of his briefs to tug them down. Lance lifted his hips, bringing them down his legs and kicking them off.

You felt your heart pounding, hearing the steady beat like a drum in your ear. You could almost feel the drool slipping out of your mouth as you stared at his impressive size, something you hadn’t forgotten, now accentuated by the ribbon tattoo. You were never an athlete but right now you were going for the gold.

You straddled Lance, your hands quickly undoing the straps of your top exposing your breasts. He smiled upon seeing them, reaching out to touch them but you brought his hands to your hips instead, guiding his fingers down to the strings that held your bikini bottom together.

The blue of his eyes were replaced by dark, ravenous rings, his chest breathing heavily as he pulled one string until it was taut, undoing the knot. He undid the other side, torturously slow as you mewled above him.

“Fuck, Lance, I need you!” you whined, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

Finally, as he removed the loosened fabric you adjusted yourself and slowly sank down on his cock, your breath stilling as you felt the stretch of him fill you completely. Lance’s eyes shut tight as he moaned, struggling not to blow his load immediately because of the incredible way you felt around him, as if you were made for each other, like a lock and key coming together to unlock a gateway of never ending pleasure.

Bracing your hands on his firm chest you began to rock your hips, your head rolling back as you were overcome with the blissful sensations. With the sun’s glow casting around your body you looked heavenly, but the sounds falling from your lips were pure sin. Lance’s hands made their way to your bouncing breasts, grabbing them as you rode him with all your might.

You locked eyes with Lance, moaning and panting above him as your hips swiveled in a desperate need for more friction. Lance dropped his hand down rubbing your clit with his thumb as you cried out, bringing you closer to the edge.

Lance felt the way your walls began to clench around him.  _Fuck_ , he thought, between the beautiful way you looked taking your pleasure from him to the incredible way you felt around his cock he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, the tightening in his balls proving his theory.

His stomach muscles tensed as he sat up wrapping his arms around you bringing your sweat covered chests closer together. Your movements slowed as his lips found yours desperately, moaning when he trailed wet kisses down your neck until he reached your breasts, taking them into his mouth and flicking his tongue around your nipples.

When he felt your hips begin to rock again he knew he couldn’t deny you of your release. Carefully he cradled you against him as he turned to lay you on your back. Bracing himself above you he entered you again and began to thrust into your heat. Lifting your leg up around him he reached your sweet spot, quickly bringing you to the edge.

“Oh, fff, Lance… I’m gonna…” you began to cry out as your walls fluttered around him, your fingers digging into his biceps as waves of pleasure washed over you.

He held out for as long as he could but feeling the way you came around him set Lance off. With a strangled moan he pulled out, emptying himself on to your stomach.

Lance hovered above you panting, his cheeks flushed with color. He smiled widely seeing your spent face coming down from the heavenly journey you took together. You looked so fucking beautiful. Lance captured your lips in for a languid kiss, resting his sweaty forehead against yours, wanting to stay pressed against you, being connected for as long as he could.

His softened dick twitched against you, reminding him of the mess he practically exploded on you. Regretfully he got up, grabbing the nearest towel to clean your stomach. You shared an awkward smile as you watched him. Throwing it off to the side when was down he laid back pulling you beside him and wrapping an arm around you to keep you close. You were hot and sticky, from the sun and the sex, but they way Lance held you made any discomfort fade away.

You laid together trying to catch your breath basking in the aftermath of what transpired. You smiled when you felt his lips kiss the top of your head, hearing him hum with delight as his arms squeezed you closer.

When your heart rate steadied your mind had finally broken free of the lust driven cage you locked it away in making you realize what just happened, you had sex with Lance Tucker. Your mind was now screaming at you.  _What have you done?!_


	13. Chapter 13

Syncing your breaths to the sound of his calming heartbeat you stayed together, tucked under Lance’s arm with your palm against his chest, his other hand covering yours. When the urge to pee became too great you pushed yourself up to sit, feeling slightly insecure when you felt his gaze on you, though Lance thought you looked like a goddess, sex hair and all.

Quickly you found your cover up dress, throwing it over your head, grabbing your discarded bikini in hand and heading inside towards the bathroom. Your body was still shaking, the aftershocks of your actions with Lance still rolling through you. Holy shit, having sex with Lance was not something you ever imagined happening again in your life and yet it didn’t feel wrong. Physically it felt fucking incredible because how could it not, and emotionally it felt… right. Lance is in your life and you finally admit you don’t want him to leave it. Not again.

You found Lance in the kitchen with a towel wrapped around his body, gulping down a sports drink. From the corner of his eye he saw you slowly walking in, offering the bottle of the blue drink to you. Bringing to your lips you felt relief as it quenched your parched mouth.

Lance smiled down at you making you giggle. You weren’t exactly sure what to say. You felt like a kid again, bubbling awkwardly under his gaze. Lance wrapped his arms around you, bringing you to his firm body and kissing your head.

“That was… wow,” he said, smiling when your arms squeezed around him as you hummed in agreement against his chest.

“I, uh, hate to ruin things…” you began and Lance’s heart dropped down, his stomach swallowing the heavy organ, “But we didn’t… um, use anything.”

Unprotected sex wasn’t the brightest idea you’ve had. You’ve been on the pill for a few years now and Lance pulled out but pregnancy wasn’t your first concern.

“I’m clean,” he stated addressing your concern. “I know what you’re thinking…” he began looking at your face, filled with worry and regret for possibly hurting his feelings with your insinuation about his past reputation. “I’ve always been safe, gotten tested,” he said.

Lance has slept with a fair share of women but he’s always used protection, the one piece of good advice his father gave him. When Magic Johnson made headlines with his diagnosis in the early ‘90s HIV was a term thrown around that Lance didn’t quite understand. Mitch gave his son ‘the birds and the bees’ talk long before Lance reached puberty, including practicing safe sex to prevent STD’s and pregnancy (mainly because he didn’t want underage Lance to have a kid that Mitch would inevitably have to pay for). His intentions were selfish but at least it was effective.

“Me too!” you chimed in with a little more enthusiasm than necessary for the serious subject.

What Lance didn’t admit was that he hadn’t been with anyone in years. Once the scandals came out he feared that anyone who wanted to be with him would just use him, sell their story to the tabloids or make up their own false accusation, and with everything happening with his mom he didn’t need the unnecessary stress.

When Lance locked eyes with you, seeing the smile tugging at the side of your lips, he wanted to open his heart and let the contents sweep you away. The truth is he loved you, no, he loves you and he’s only ever loved you.

In the past he tried to tell himself that his hookups meant something, wanting to mold them into a relationship that mimicked his failed one with you but it never worked. No one was ever able to capture his heart the way you did, they didn’t even come close.  

He wanted to share this with you but kept his feelings inside. Everything was happening quickly and while he loved it he didn’t want to push you away.

You asked to take a shower, grabbing the bag of clothes you packed and followed Lance upstairs to the guest bathroom. He pulled out some towels leaving them on the counter, giving you a quick peck on the lips before he left and shut the door. Before you pulled out fresh clothes for afterwards you looked at the shower and left the room, calling out to him from the top of the steps.

“Something wrong?” he asked, seeing you clutch the towels in your hand.

“There’s no shampoo or soap… or curtain,” you laughed.

Lance smiled, dropping his face into his hands. The tub in his guest bathroom was practically for show, there was no need to ever use it. You were the first real guest he’s had over since he moved in.

With quick footsteps he reached the top of the stairs, apologizing as he led you to the bathroom inside his bedroom. You marveled at the open space, white marble flooring, large enough for a full glass enclosed shower and freestanding tub.

You placed your bag on the large double vanity, admiring the beautiful hexagonal marble tile on the wall. This was the perfect HGTV home and you were really jealous. Your whole bedroom could fit in here and then some! That’s one of the downfalls of living in New York, having to always look up new space saving ideas.

Slipping off your dress you stepped inside the large shower letting the water run until it was a comforting temperature, not too hot or cold and stepping under the stream. Grabbing the shampoo bottle you smiled, familiar with Lance’s scent that you would now share. You lathered your body as best as you could without a loofah, spreading the body wash around, hissing slightly when you touched your neck, still sore from the massage and what you assumed were bruises from his love bites.

When you finished you wrapped yourself in a soft towel and grabbed your bag, unfolding the clothes you packed. You finally emerged when your hair was a slightly damp but no longer dripping. You changed into a soft white cotton t-shirt and cut off jean shorts, sliding on his floors with your white socks.

Lance had changed as well into a dark blue shirt and black jeans, you found him pacing downstairs as he was talking with Nadia.

“Everything okay?” you asked, when he hung up.

“Yeah, no changes,” he smiled slightly.

You wrapped your arms around him sensing he needed the comfort, your suspicions confirmed when he practically molded himself into you.

Lance took a large inhale, “Mmm you smell like me,” he said, smiling against you.

“So…” you drawled and Lance repeated. You both laughed, breaking the slightly awkward tension. “I don’t know about you but I’m pretty hungry,” you admitted.

Lance agreed and you both rummaged through his fridge to decide on what to make. It was all very domestic, as Lance boiled water for the couscous, taking out the additional ingredients that would go with it as you worked on preparing the marinade for the shrimp he would grill.

“Remember the last time we cooked together?”

Your eyes crinkled as you laughed, “Don’t remind me!”

***

Your one year anniversary of officially dating had finally arrived. You and Lance decided on having a home cooked meal together, one that you would be doing yourselves. You didn’t have much experience with cooking, occasionally chopping vegetables or whatever menial task your parents had you do as they tended to the main course but you still tried to watch. Both of your parents enjoyed cooking, each of them excelling in different recipes but what you loved more than the delicious meals was how they worked together.

It never mattered what they made but how they did it, their love was obvious and it was something you wanted to emulate with Lance. You decided on making chicken cutlets and roasted potatoes. At fourteen this should have been a piece of cake. It was chicken and potatoes, nothing crazy. How it ended up in disaster you’ll never know.

Your parents went to Dorothy’s house for dinner leaving you and Lance alone, you were both good kids and neither they nor Dorothy thought you would betray their trust in any way. Lance opened the door to let your parents in and after everyone made him blush he crossed the street holding a bouquet of red roses. They stood out against his light blue button down shirt that he hoped he wasn’t sweating through. He was nervous, especially when you opened the door wearing a dark purple shimmery dress with spaghetti straps (one you begged your mom to order from the Delia’s catalog) a clear butterfly clip in your hair and chunky platform sandals.

You kissed each other hello, thanking him for the roses and placed them in a vase on the dining room table. Your mom had given you money to buy the things you needed for your dinner, and so everything was laid out on the counter; potatoes, spices, flour, breadcrumbs, and oil. Lance grabbed the eggs and chicken cutlets out of the fridge and you began. He cracked open the eggs, beating them together in a bowl, while you prepared the flour and breadcrumbs on separate plates.

As you trimmed fatty pieces off the chicken Lance began to cut the potatoes… well he was trying to at least. The potatoes you bought weren’t exactly easy to slice through but he tried, forcing his weight down on the knife and nicking his finger in the process. Lance hissed, grabbing a paper towel to apply pressure to the cut as you ran to the bathroom to get a bandaid. Your fingers were sticky from handling the raw meat, making a mental note to clean the medicine cabinet knob later. You washed your hands first before helping him apply the bandaid. The cut wasn’t deep and it stopped bleeding quickly and so Lance cut the rest of the potatoes more carefully, giving up on the parts he couldn’t cut through.

When he was done you spread the potatoes out on a roasting pan, coating them with oil, salt, pepper and rosemary but since you forgot to preheat the oven you left them on the side. While waiting for the oven you worked on the chicken, coating a piece in flour before dipping it in the eggs and then to the breadcrumbs. Lance added the oil to the frying pan and he placed the chicken to be cooked. Unfortunately he added a little too much oil which crackled, and droplets began to fly onto your skin.

You screamed from the burning sensation, holding your forearm with egg and breadcrumb caked fingertips as you backed away from the stove. Lance immediately went to you, rubbing the sting from your skin and asking if you were alright. The oil continued to crackle sending up another flaming hot splash, this time landing on Lance’s back. It took him by surprise, clearly, because he had not intended on jumping forward, slamming his arm on the countertop and into the bowl of eggs. The bowl toppled over sending the slimy yellow liquid running down the cabinets and onto the floor.

“Oh no!” you said in unison.

Your sticky hands grabbed the roll of paper towels while Lance went to grab the hand towel hanging on the oven door. Again he was hit by the crackling oil of the now burning chicken cutlet. He panicked and jumped forward, right into the puddle of eggs, slipping face first into the mess.

“Lance!” you screamed.

You ran to the stove first, turning off the fire to prevent this disaster from continuing, scrunching your nose in disgust at the charred food. Lance was sitting back on his heels, laughing uncomfortably as he looked down at the front of his shirt which was soaked in eggs.

Ripping off some paper towels you handed them to Lance to wipe the string of egg from his chin. He started to clean himself up first before wiping the floor, chuckling under his breath but you didn’t have it in you to laugh. You were so disappointed, pouting as you looked back and forth between the ruined food in the frying pan and the huge mess you’d have to clean up. You couldn’t help but fight the tears that made their way to your eyes.

“Everything’s ruined,” you whined, sniffling as you attempted to clean the mess on the counter.

Lance paused his task, carefully getting up to comfort you from a close distance as he did not want to get your pretty dress covered in more egg, feeling bad enough for splashing the ends of it earlier.

“Nothing’s ruined Y/N,” his soft voice consoled you.

“Just look at it Lance. This was supposed to be a special!” you cried, wiping the tears from your cheek with the heel of your palm.

“It is special Y/N because I’m with you. I…” he paused to swallow a nervous gulp, “I love you.”

Your jaw dropped open in shock, hearing those three words for the first time. “Really?” you squealed, and Lance nodded at your adorable response, wondering how you could ever doubt him. “I love you too Lance.”

He leaned in to kiss you and you pulled him close, not caring about the disgusting dampness on his shirt. You were getting lost in each other’s embrace when suddenly a loud beeping startled you. It was the sound of the oven now fully heated that you forgot about, surprising you so badly you jumped backwards, slamming your hand into the bowl of flour. Puffs of white filtered in the air and you both burst out laughing.

After cleaning up the kitchen and calling your parents Lance went home to shower as did you, but he returned when the pizza your parents ordered arrived. You sat together in pajamas watching TV and eating pizza. You learned that you couldn’t replicate what your parents had because you weren’t them, you were Y/N and Lance, and together you would have a lifetime to share your love.

***

Thankfully both of your cooking skills had improved since that day and now you were sitting together enjoying your dinner of grilled lime shrimp and mango couscous salad, made with the standard mess of dishes you cleaned together.

After dinner you were cuddled up on the couch, Lance pulled out his phone, reaching his arm out to take a picture of you together. Your head was nuzzled against his chest with your legs folded beside you, one arm across Lance’s stomach, intertwined with his hand. Neither of you paid much attention to whatever show was on the TV.

Soon you began kissing, softly and slowly, with Lance drawing out every whimper that fell from your lips. You were growing warmer as you continued, needing to feel him against you as if his skin was the only way to soothe the electric current running through your body.

Lance had carried you upstairs, your legs wrapped around his body with your lips parting only so he could carefully navigate his way up the steps. You didn’t make it easy for him as you began kissing the soft flesh of his neck, feeling his growing arousal against you.

Lance gently placed you on his plush mattress, letting the soft lighting of his bedside lamp drench you in a warm glow. There was a small ring of blue around his darkened eyes but unlike earlier there was no urgency. Lance cradled the back of your head in his palm, hovering above you and slowly lowering himself to your lips. Unlike before this was about passion; earlier you fucked, now you were making love.

Lance took his time reacquainting himself with every inch of your body, much like your first time together but with the confidence of experience. He saw how you responded preferring his mouth to certain areas, making sure he left to continue his journey of your body only when you were a purring and moaning mess. He worshipped between your legs, carrying you to the crest of the waves of pleasure and back down again, repeating it several times.

Lance entered you slowly, sweet moans escaping from him as he drew out the sensation, entering inch by inch to feel every part of you surrounding him. Your fingertips grazing along his sides, gripping the expanse of his back, feeling every muscle flex underneath your touch as he rocked above you.

Your lips were on each others, his tongue tangled with yours in a sensual dance. Lance was bringing you to the edge again, the peak of a mountain standing high above the clouds. Together you went to the top, gasping for breath as your came floating down together.

You were buzzing, every nerve alive setting fireworks off within your skin. Lance hovered above you with kiss swollen lips and a sweat lined brow. But the way he looked at you brought tears to your eyes and for a moment you questioned why.

You lifted your lips towards him, closing the gap between you so he didn’t see your eyes. It was scary and you wanted to fight this feeling but you couldn’t, not anymore. Your walls were coming down, with a sledgehammer in hand you willingly demolished them, letting your emotions flow through you again. Love. This was love. You saw it in his eyes reflecting back at you and you couldn’t deny it any longer. You were in love with Lance Tucker.


	14. Chapter 14

Waking up together was something you could get used to, you craved it especially feeling Lance’s solid frame curled against your body, his arms wrapped around you. The alarm clock buzzed and Lance turned over to shut it, wanting to relish the moment having you beside him again for as long as he could. He pressed a kiss to the crook of your neck, squeezing you closer as you hummed in response.

As much as he wanted to stay in bed with you forever he couldn’t. The grand opening was tomorrow and there was a lot to do today. You felt his lips trail kisses down your arm exposed above the sheet, and rolling onto your back you opened your tired eyes. Lance was staring at you with a smile, his brown hair fluffy and sticking out in every direction.

With a raspy morning voice he asked how you slept, then letting you know what time he needed to be at the center. You needed to stop at your hotel to change into new clothes, never expecting you were going to sleep over.

A few good morning kisses turned into you showering together and quickly having to leave Lance’s house as you lost track of time. At your hotel you changed quickly into a lilac blouse with grey pants, applying your mascara at the red lights you hit on the way, with Lance stealing a kiss before you made the final turn to the center.

Once there he was bombarded with work, talking with a representative regarding the USA Gymnastics banners, fielding emails from his newly set up computer, his office looking functional thanks to Laura’s help. She had limited time at the center today, trying to walk as many people through the facilities and register them since Lance was busy.

He placed a frantic call to the contractor to come back for some emergency plumbing issues.

“Hey, take a breath,” you said, seeing him getting worked up over it. “It’s just a few loose connections.”

“The grand opening is tomorrow,” he fretted, “And if I don’t have a working bathroom then I won’t have customers and…”

“Lance!” you cupped his face, forcing him to look at you, “It’s all going to work out,” you said, reassuring him with a smile.

He took a few inhales, steadying his nerves, instinctively leaning in to kiss you before Laura called out to him from the front.

“To be continued,” he winked before saying goodbye to her and greeting a family with young twins who were eager to enroll.

You had observed a few days of Lance and his registration routine so you stayed in his office to work on your article, mainly jotting down a few phrases in mind you thought might work, going over the notes you had already to see if anything was popping out at you that might work for a theme.

A woman walked in, introducing herself as Nichole to Lance. She was stunning, tall and slim, with perfect hair and unblemished skin, with big doe eyes and full lips. She wore a peach colored top though Lance would hardly call it that, it was clearly a sports bra created for style over function with its criss-crossing straps and cut out details. It certainly wouldn’t be able to support her very large surgically enhanced breasts. The matching pants were high waisted leggings that left little to the imagination.

Lance was not proud of the fact that he was checking her out, being single for so long it was second nature for him. He wondered if he  _was_ still single. He didn’t want to pressure you into a label but what he wouldn’t give to be your boyfriend again.

Nichole was beautiful but she wasn’t you. For now she was a mother interested in signing up her daughter, Monique who was not present. She told Lance that Monique was taking gymnastics in her after school program but wanted to learn more.

“She’s incredible. She gets her flexibility from me,” she confidently smirked at him.

During the tour of the facility Nichole began shamelessly flirting with Lance, touching his arm every now and then, smiling at him and biting her lip. Lance had flirted back initially, it was so natural for him to do so since he hadn’t been in a relationship since you were young.

Nichole mentioned again, several times just how flexible she was, telling him that she’s a yoga instructor. He hated to admit picturing the ways her body could move, flashes of a crazy night with Hope Ann Greggory running through his mind, his dick giving a subtle twitch at the memory.

As his mind trailed away he didn’t realize that Nichole had stepped onto the mats, getting onto all fours.

“Please don’t– ” he began to ask her to get off of mat but was distracted when she lifted up into downward dog position, her firm round ass in front of his face.

“This is my favorite position,” she purred, “Especially during hot yoga.” She turned her head towards Lance, “Maybe I could give you a private lesson,” she winked.

Lance huffed in frustration. A few years ago he would have fucked this girl on every piece of equipment but now he had a girlfriend (he hoped) and a business to run, so he sternly asked her to get up. Lance didn’t see her pout but as she stood up, she brought a hand to her head and stumbled.

Lance was at her side, his arms around her to keep her upright as she faked lightheadedness. He was caught off guard when she pulled him by the collar, pressing her lips to his, her tongue forcefully darting into his mouth with loud wet noises booming throughout the center.

In the doorway you stood watching the whole thing. His arms holding her close as she sucked his face.

Lance saw you standing there, his eyes bulging wide and then you disappeared. He pushed Nichole off of him, telling her he doesn’t want her business or anything to do with her, making sure she left before he found you in his office, your head staring at your phone.

“Y/N, it’s not what you think. She…” Lance began but you cut him off.

“What the fuck Lance?

“It wasn’t me! She was the one who…”

You cut him off again, as anger coursed through your veins. “She what Lance? What did she do?” you huffed, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I didn’t kiss her back, she grabbed me and…” he tried to explain what happened but your ears were ringing with white noise, clouded by the rage coursing through your body.

“Oh so did she force you to flirt with her then too? I heard you!” you yelled back.

“I didn’t mean to it just happened.”

He tried to grab your hand but you pulled it away from him, the distance you were putting between him was hurting him badly. He wanted to make you understand, he didn’t mean that, the kiss, the flirting, he didn’t want Nichole, only you. Lance was shaking, trying to find the right words to get you to see his side.

“It’s what they expect when they meet me!” he exclaimed, his nerves making him choose the wrong words.

You stood in stunned silence with your mouth hanging open. “Are you kidding me? So what Lance? Was the whole ‘nice guy’ act just a show? You haven’t changed at all,” you seethed, shaking your head with disdain.

“I didn’t mean to say it like that, it’s not true.”

“Oh really? ‘Cause I see all the texts you’re  _still_ getting Lance! All the girls. This is high school all over again and you’re just using me to boost your ego!”

You grabbed your laptop and bag, wanting to push past him but Lance grabbed your arm.

“Would you trust me? It’s not like that!”

“Trust you?!” you scoffed, shoving his arm off of you. “Nothing’s changed!”

Unlocking your phone you opened the Uber app, hoping the nearest stranger could rescue you from this nightmare. Lance peeked at what you were doing, attempting to stop you and get you to stay.

“Get away from me Lance! This was a mistake, I should have never come back here. Nothing’s changed and the worst part is I opened myself up to you again.” Your voice cracked as hot tears flooded your eyes. “I love you, I’ve always loved you and all you ever do is break my heart. I can’t do this again. I can’t…  **I can’t be in love with you!** ”

Lance followed behind as you pushed open the front door, waiting on the curb. “Please Y/N, come back we can talk about this,” he begged.

You refused to look at him, checking your phone as tears streaked down your cheeks.

“Mr. Tucker is that you?” You heard the kind voice of an older woman calling out to him.

Lance struggled with his options, stop the love of his life from leaving over a stupid misunderstanding or register this kind woman and a small bouncing child for his school. Fuck, why did Laura have to leave?

“I’ll be right with you,” Lance turned to her, doing his best not to sound as annoyed as he felt.

Lance stood behind you, keeping enough space in between so he didn’t aggravate you more.

“I’m sorry Y/N, please I want to explain everything. We’ll talk later, okay?” he asked but you didn’t respond, keeping your head held high despite crying.

“I love you,” he said in a soft but firm tone.

Your face scrunched together, a lump catching in your throat as you held on strong to not let a single whimper become audible.

Reluctantly Lance ushered the woman and child inside, giving them a less than enthusiastic spiel while you rode back to your hotel. Once inside you started gathering all of your belongings to pack up, grabbing your phone and making a tearful call.

“Mom, I’m going home!”


	15. Chapter 15

Speaking with your mom helped put the brakes on your impulsive behavior. You weren’t headed home, not yet at least but you already checked out of your hotel and felt too embarrassed to go back to the front desk attendant who assisted your runny nosed, tear streaked self and tell him you changed your mind.

Your Dad was already on his way up to Spring Hill and you planned on spending the rest of the day with them before coming back to a different hotel. You ignored Lance’s calls and texts as you headed to your parent’s condo. You knew you would need to speak with him before the grand opening tomorrow but for now you needed to put as much distance between yourself and Lance.

Your Dad didn’t talk about Lance per your request, instead telling you everything they saw on their cruise. It was a nice distraction though your mind couldn’t help but drift. You couldn’t wait to see your Mom. It’s not that you couldn’t talk to your Dad about this but if you were going to talk about what happened you would have to mention  _everything_ and you definitely felt more comfortable speaking with her.

By the time you arrived your Mom was waiting with open arms, kissing you on the cheek and wrapping you in a warm hug. It felt good to see her again. Once inside you helped her with some chores though she insisted you didn’t have to. As you swept the floors you began to open up about Lance, from your boss who was unaware of your true connection with him up until the fight you just had.

“Oh sweetie. Can I be honest?” You nodded, nervously anticipating her next words. “I love you so much but you’re just like your father, so impetuous.”

You scrunched your nose at her criticism but it was true now that you thought about it. You hardly gave Lance a chance to explain what happened, just as you had done the same when you were kids.  _Shit_.

“I won’t pretend to know Lance as well as you but all I know is that boy has loved you since you were kids. I don’t think he would ever do anything to intentionally hurt you. You need to talk to him. You’re supposed to be friends forever remember, with warts and all,” she smiled.

Your mouth dropped open in shock as she repeated the words from your childhood conversation with Lance, “You heard that?”

A grin spread across her face as she nodded her head up and down. “It was the cutest thing! Your father and I couldn’t stop smiling.”

You decided to call Lance after you ate something, feeling you would be able to express yourself and apologize after your stomach was full. You began preparing dinner for your parents, it was the least you could do after all, but midway through your Dad took over because your Mom wanted to show you something.

You followed her to her bedroom, stopping in your tracks as you saw a familiar cardboard box on her bed. The Lance box.

“Y-you kept it?” you questioned.   
“Yeah,” she admits. “I never went through it but I don’t know… it felt weird to get rid of it.”

You chuckled slightly, “Tell me about it. I shoved that thing in the closet for years.”

Your Mom explained that after she saw you on TV with Lance she went through her old photo albums, reminiscing about all of the memories you shared.

“Did you get the picture I sent you?” she asked, referring to one of you and Lance together on your twelfth birthday, you were hugging each other in front of your cake.

“You texted me?” you asked, finding out she emailed you instead. Checking your phone you searched for the image, “I didn’t get it,” you said, checking your personal mailbox. “Oh, wait.” You found it was sent to your work email by mistake.

You rushed through dinner faster than you wanted to, hearing your phone buzz constantly from the other room made you incredibly anxious. Finally you grabbed it, seeing notifications about a lot of missed calls from Lance and many texts included the most recent which had you worried that said “PICK UP THE FUCKING PHONE!!!!

Before you could dial his number he was calling again. “Hey–” you began but Lance talked over you.  
“What the fuck did you do?” he yelled.

You pinched the bridge of your nose, wishing you hadn’t run off like you did. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have left but I–”  
“No Y/N, what the  _fuck_ did you do?” he hissed. “I told you, I fucking told you not to contact my mother!”

You swallowed your words in shock. You hadn’t. The last time you spoke to Dorothy was at the hospital.

“Is this payback?” Your heart began to race as his anger increased, “Huh? Fucking answer me! Did you come for a fucking apology just so you could get back at me?”

Lance paced as he held the phone to his ear, unable to contain his angry huffing and puffing. He was fed up and couldn’t hold it in any more, you ran away when you were kids just like you ran away today but now you crossed a line, one he didn’t think you could ever come back from. Lance loved his mom and the way that you broke his trust made him scoff at the idea that he ever loved you at all.

Finally you found the nerve to speak, “Lance, what are you talking about?”

His heart was beating out of his chest as he clenched his teeth. Your feigned innocence set him over the edge. “This is serious shit Y/N! Your phone call got her so upset she’s back in the hospital!”

You were in shock, worried for Dorothy’s health but also wondering why he thought you called her. “Lance I didn’t…”

“Shut the fuck up! I don’t want to hear it Y/N!” he screamed, your name sounding like poison on his tongue that he wanted to rid from his mouth. “You’re not invited to the opening and I’m not doing your goddamn article so you can get the fuck out of my life!”

When the phone call ended you dropped to your knees. It was hard to breathe, tears clouded your vision and the sound of your rapidly beating heart was pounding in your ears. You didn’t know what happened, you didn’t know why he thought you called Dorothy but for the first time in your life you were scared of Lance.

The person screaming over the phone was not someone you ever encountered. This was not the voice of your childhood love, nor was it the arrogant Lance you reunited with last week. No, this was the voice of Lance “The Fucker” Tucker, the man who thought he was a god, who could walk anywhere and expect people to be groveling at his feet. This was the man you hated he became, the man he apparently was again.

When you hadn’t resurfaced in sometime your Mom went to get you, finding you crying on the bed. She rubbed circles on your back as you could barely explain the reason you were upset, snippets of the conversation with Lance coming out in painful sobs that physically hurt your chest.

Your mom prepared the guest room for you since you wanted to, no– you needed to be asleep, unable to stay awake any longer with the conversation and Lance’s cruel words replaying in your mind. If only sleep came that easily, you tossed and turning for most of the night.

Finally as the sky began to lighten in the early morning your eyelids finally felt heavy, too swollen to stay open. Grabbing your phone, you sent Lance a text that simply said “I didn’t do it” before you drifted to sleep, giving your body a chance to rest from the awful sting of a broken heart.

Waking up the next day you had hoped everything that happened was a nightmare, but as you lay in the bed of your parent’s guest room you remembered every painful detail that happened. Checking your phone you saw there was no response from Lance. It was just about noon, the grand opening ceremony had past and you were not there.

Grabbing your laptop you opened it and emailed over the most generic blurb you’ve ever written that stated the most basic facts, Lance Tucker opened a gymnastics center in Spring Hill, Florida. No quotes, no pictures, no inside scoop. Sue would most certainly be upset with this but there was nothing you could do, you weren’t there.

So now, on top of dealing with your emotions you would have to explain to your boss why you’ve wasted the last week and a half for an article that will never go to print.

Your parents shared concerned looks as you padded barefoot into the kitchen, grabbing a glass for some orange juice though it could really use some alcohol. Champagne made you think of celebrations. Lance might have popped a bottle today to celebrate the opening of the center. You remember tasting champagne on his tongue the night you went out for your birthday. Well fuck champagne, there was nothing to celebrate.

Vodka, that sounds a lot better. You would absolutely add some vodka to your orange juice but you’ll save it for the plane, you didn’t want to worry your parents even more. You changed your flight home for later that day, wanting to spend the rest of your weekend in bed until you went in to work on Monday, two days earlier than originally expected which would obviously get people talking.

By the time you got home you changed into pajamas and got right into bed. You aimlessly scrolled through your Netflix queue and the long list of shows you haven’t had time to watch. Not that it mattered anyway, you couldn’t focus if you tried.

Finally you gave in to your rumbling stomach and ordered food for delivery, wanting to drown yourself in the heaviest, cheesiest Italian food you could find. You ordered some extra meals as well knowing there was no fucking way you would attempt at cooking tomorrow. It’s not like there was much food in your house anyway, another downside of constantly travelling; by the time you got back your vegetables were moldy, the milk had expired and you ended up throwing most things away.

Monday morning finally arrived and you did your best attempt with makeup trying to cover the deep bags that set under your eyes from a lack of sleep. You hoped the pretty eyeshadow palette you used would distract from your puffy lids. Finally you picked out clothes, a grey pencil skirt and a yellow blouse, hoping the sunny color would absorb into your skin and cheer you up.

Making your way to your desk you tried to steer clear of as many people as possible, greeting the ones that you couldn’t avoid with a quick hello and overall trying to normalize your presence though many knew not to expect you back so soon.

As you turned on your computer you realized you had actually turned it off– great, this thing’s been on for nearly two weeks. Your inbox was filled with messages, some you answered while you were away, the others were less important, like office memos and an invitations to Happy Hours.

It took some time to go through them all though your heart stopped at one message. You knew what it was seeing your mom’s email address and quickly deleted it.  _Keep it together Y/N, do not break down in the middle of work._

The phone ringing startled you and clearing your throat you answered in your professional “work voice” finding Alyssa on the other line, asking if you could come upstairs to meet with Susan.  _Shit._

As the elevator went up your stomach went down, sinking like an anchor in the bottom of the sea. Entering her office your mouth was pulled into an uncomfortable smile, doing your best to hide the tremble on your lips. Susan’s eyebrows were knit together with tension.

As you sat in front of her she said nothing, finally grabbing a piece of paper from the top of a pile and sliding it in front of you. Your eyes widened to see the printed photo of you and Lance hugging on your birthday.


	16. Chapter 16

Your jaw dropped down thirty-six floors to the ground level and then some, feeling as if your mouth was so wide you could swallow an entire subway train. Your heart forgoes its steady beat for a wild rhythm of a song you couldn’t hear since your ears were clogging up.

The vents in Sue’s office blew out hot steam and you were instantly sweating, beads trickling down your temple and appearing above your top lip. You wanted to scream and cry at once but you felt frozen in your seat, staring back at the picture of you and Lance together.

“You lied to me,” Susan said as you looked up at her with guilty eyes.

What could you say? There was obviously no denying it, not with the proof staring back at you. Sorry doesn’t explain why you lied but is that what she wanted to hear? Or did she want to hear the truth? Did she want to hear about half a lifetime of memories with the boy who became an Olympic winner after breaking your teenage heart? You told her from the start this was a bad idea but she didn’t listen.

“It’s personal,” you muttered quietly.

Susan clasped her hands together and you could see the tension in her fingers. “Be that as it may this company has a reputation.  _I_  have a reputation and as your editor and boss this is something I should have known about.”

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, “I apologize. It wasn’t something I wanted to discuss but my prior connection with Lance Tucker has no impact on my work today.”

“No impact?” she scoffed. “Is that why you missed the opening?”

Sue cocked her head waiting for your answer but you simply couldn’t respond. She was right, from the start your relationship with Lance affected everything, from the petty and childish ways you both acted until you finally resolved the issue from your past and moved forward. Everything was perfect until that phone call.

Something didn’t feel right. There was no point in lying to Susan now, you had to put everything out there if you were going to get to the bottom of what happened.

“Something happened,” you began, as Sue sat back and prepared herself for whatever you were going to say next.

After skimming through the events that transpired and briefly describing Dorothy’s condition you explained the phone call. “He said that I called his mom but I never did. Sue, this woman was like a second mother to me I would never jeopardize her health over this article especially when things were progressing.”

Sue frowned, also puzzled by your story though it wasn’t the full truth.

“Because of the phone call Lance pulled out of the article.”

“Shit!” she cursed, huffing loudly.

Sue slammed her hands on the desk causing a few papers to move around. As you stared at the photo on her desk you wondered how it ended up in her hands. That was the picture your mom accidentally sent to your work email, and your computer was on but you remembered logging off, specifically pulling your phone charger out of the port to take with you.

“Who gave you this picture?!”

***

Your foot nervously tapped as you waited for the elevator to descend. Harsh puffs of air blew out from your flaring nostrils, you felt like a bull ready to charge. Once the doors opened you began your stampede, zeroing in on the person who fucked everything up like they were a matador waving a red cape, except in this scenario the bull will not die.

“How could you?” You harshly pulled Heather’s chair back, spinning her around to face you.

“Excuse me?” she feigned snotty innocence before dropping it when you told her about the photo. “How could I? You’re the one that lied Y/N! That article should have been mine considering I actually like the guy!”

Your head shook in disbelief, if she only knew the pain she caused to the supposed “guy she liked”.

“Oh but wait that’s another lie! I saw the way you looked at him,” she paused to pull out her phone, bringing up a photo of you and Lance kissing at the table from the night of your birthday, unaware someone had snapped a photo of what they tagged as #TuckersGoldenGirl presumably because of the glow of the candlelight.

“I can’t believe you Heather. I thought we were friends,” you sighed.

You once considered Heather a close friend. She understood your schedule and always kept in touch while you were away, keeping you updated on all of her dates, she even tried to introduce you to some guys when you would hang out outside of work. She was always there for you but you were wrong and it hurt.

“You thought wrong,” she snapped back. 

“Sue knows you lied so now I’m gonna write that article and then  _I’ll_  be with Lance. He wants someone like me anyway– ruthless, determined, knows what it takes to be the best!”

You couldn’t help but chuckle at how wrong she had everything, “You don’t know him at all and there is no article Heather because of what you did. Why would you call his mother?”

“I needed information, not that she would give me anything,” Heather blew it off not understanding the severity of the situation. “Besides he’s a big boy, one call to mommy won’t hurt.”

Once again you found yourself in a situation where your hands became balled into tight fists and it hurt you to the core to restrain them at your sides and not put them through Heather’s face. There will already be repercussions from lying to Sue, you not need an assault charge on top of it.

“You stupid girl, you have no idea what you’ve done!” you exclaimed, thinking about Dorothy’s health while she mistook it.

“Whatever, there will always be more articles,” she laughed wickedly, unaware of the person standing behind her.

“Not for you Heather,” Sue sternly said. Heather turned around to face her boss who stood behind her looking unamused by the young woman’s antics. “You’re fired Heather, pack up and go.”

Heather stood up, pathetically begging Susan that she had it all wrong and that you should be fired. It was quite comical especially since you saw Susan approach Heather’s desk midway through your conversation though you didn’t let that on.

Alyssa arranged for security to escort Heather out of the building as you followed Sue back to her office.

“I’m honestly very sorry Susan. Lance and I were really close during our childhood but we had a falling out. I hadn’t really thought about him in years and when you approached me for the article I panicked. Funny thing is we patched things up,” you sighed heavily, briefly recalling all of the wonderful moments you and Lance shared, from dinners to Weeki Wachee and even splitting your pants.

A wave of hot tears threatened to spill, your lip trembling as you remembered your nights together, in each other’s embrace once again. Your voice cracked as you continued to apologize, “I should have told you though.”

Rummaging through your bag you unsuccessfully searched for a tissue, looking up to see Susan place a box in front of you for the tears that began to fall. Nodding a thank you to her as you wiped them away along with your running mascara.

“This is all my fault. If you knew then Heather wouldn’t have tried to sabotage this piece but more importantly she wouldn’t have disturbed Dorothy Tucker.”

“I’m sorry you felt you couldn’t tell me you weren’t comfortable doing the piece. I would never have put you in that situation,” she said, offering a smile of relief. “Unfortunately your undisclosed relationship puts you and this company at risk, especially with pictures of you and Lance on Instagram. We are unbiased journalists Y/N, we show no favoritism to any athlete, sports team or league.”

Sue took a few sips of her coffee that was evidently cold by her disappointed face after setting it down. “Here’s the bottom line, as long as everything was consensual…”

She paused, waiting for your answer to which you nodded, “Then everything is fine. Well in this case it’s not fine. Had you been able to run the interview you would have to disclose your prior relationship but now we have nothing.”

Sue informed you that you’d be suspended without pay for the next two days, the days you technically would have still been in Spring Hill for, and that you would have to reimburse the company for the expenses of the trip that did not produce the article it was intended for. It was a financial sting but no pain compares to the heavy lump in your chest, the now broken heart that longs for days it was full of love.

Pushing up from the chair you thanked Sue and began to leave, “Y/N I just have to say one more thing,” she said, waving you back. “Talk to Lance. Speaking as your editor I would love to run that article.”

You wanted to say he probably blocked your number by now but she continued, “But as your friend,” Sue smiled and once again tears made their presence known, “You obviously care for him, at the very least he should know the truth about the phone call.”

Wiping away a few more tears you nodded with a tight lipped smile, “Thank you Susan,” you said. She walked you to the door of her office, wrapping her arms around your back for a brief but firm hug.

Before heading home you made a stop to a bakery nearby, getting an order of chocolate dipped cannolis for yourself because after today you absolutely needed the sweets. While retrieving your mail you noticed your elderly neighbor struggling to balance a few bags and grip the handrail of the staircase.

Moving quickly before she lost her balance you came up beside her, “I can carry those if you’d like Mrs. Daniels.”

She thanked you as she sluggishly made her way up the steps, you followed with precaution in case she needed your assistance. Thankfully she was she was only on the second floor, you had six excruciating flights to walk up thanks to your building not having an elevator.

When she made it to the front door her keys jingled loudly as her shaky hands struggled to insert the key but finally she unlocked her door.

“Thank you dear,” she said. “Did you just move here?”

You smiled in return, shaking your head no. Mrs. Daniels was one of the first people you met when you moved in a few years ago and granted you hadn’t seen her much it goes to show how little time you actually spent here.

After waking up the rest of the way you finally made it inside, kicking off your shoes for the comfort of fuzzy socks, trading your work outfit for leggings and a soft t-shirt, once again ignoring a blue one that reminded you so much of Lance’s beautiful eyes.

Grabbing your laptop you ate a cannoli on your way to the couch, making yourself comfortable as you stared at an empty screen. For the two days you were at home you worked hard, pouring your heart out through every word you typed.

Back at the office you were focused on making arrangements for future articles with athletes or their agents. Lance was always on your mind but you tried not to focus on him. It didn’t help when rumors circulated around the office about Heather’s dismissal. Even though she was no longer your friend you knew firsthand how damaging rumors can be, so if anyone asked you why she was fired you simply stated that it was due to unprofessionalism. It was generic but it was also the truth and no one needed to know any further details.

Every night after rushing through dinner you went back to your laptop, writing, editing and rewriting, staying up well past a normal bedtime until everything was complete. Hovering the mouse over the send button you closed your eyes, taking a deep breath and clicked. The email to Lance was sent and now all you could do was wait.


	17. Chapter 17

On the grand opening day for Tucker Gymnastics Lance looked like absolute shit. He spent the night in the ER again with his mother and Nadia, all for the doctors to tell him the same thing as before, his mother was dying.

Lance cupped Dorothy’s hands in his own, watching her hooked up to machines again. This wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t call.  _Why didn’t you listen to him?_  Nadia said she received a phone call that made her really confused. Nadia heard screaming from the other end of the line and it was upsetting Dorothy but all she kept repeating was “Y/N.” She became so upset she started to panic, her mind couldn’t handle whatever was happening and Nadia couldn’t calm her down. Her blood pressure was through the roof and so she went to the hospital.

He contemplated everything, wondering if you were playing games with him from the start. Maybe he deserved it. Lance knew he fucked up in the past but he was young and stupid. He was also madly in love with you and every day he tried to explain, to apologize; even if you didn’t forgive him he just wanted to see your face one last time to know it was really over. Instead you ignored him and the open wound that was his heart hurt more and more until it was infected. He partied to forget you, he became the asshole that would have driven you away if you even attempted to contact him. He convinced himself that he didn’t need anyone but it was a lie. He always needed you.

But now Lance doesn’t know what to think because you hurt his mother. He ignored your calls and texts, turning his phone off because he couldn’t stand to look at your face each time the photo of you cuddling together on his couch popped up. Once he thought you were beautiful but now he only sees a monster.  _How could you do this to him?_

Lance left the hospital to run home quickly, disgusted that he stood in the same shower you shared only twenty-four hours ago. He changed and sped over to the center, hoping the bags under his eyes weren’t too deep, hoping he could claim he was up all night preparing for this day.

He was in a daze as the day went by. He should have been happy, this was his dream; his center was USAG accredited, there was an overwhelming sign up from excited children and their parents but Lance wanted to scream. He was too exhausted to deal with everything, wanting to go home and sleep for the next month instead of being there. Looking around all he saw were memories of you and he hated it. You turned his dream into a nightmare.

By the end of the following week Lance was exhausted after visiting his mom after a long day at the center. She had been back home for a few days, with new medication to ease her discomforts. She refused treatment knowing there was no point to it, she’d rather not face the side effects again especially after the cancer had spread.

Lance plopped on the couch slinging his arm over his tired eyes, even the soft glow of the flickering TV was too bright for him. His head was pounding and he wanted to sleep. The sound of his phone going off disturbed the small moment of peace he found. Now that the center was open his phone was always going off with notifications, emails regarding new students and scheduling, Twitter replies, and continued texts that go unreturned from women he didn’t care to involve himself with.

Lance instinctively opened the inbox for the email created for the center to find there was nothing new there, it was his personal email that had a new message and his stomach twisted into knots when he saw it was from you.

Sitting up now he stared at his phone, debating if he should even open your message. You never read any of the apology notes he left for you so he thought about doing the same but something pulled at his heart and he decided to read your message.

_Dear Lance,_

_I want to apologize for many things but the most importantly for the phone call your mom received. An ambitious former coworker searched for her number and used my name to try to gain information. This shouldn’t have happened and I take full responsibility for everything. I love your mother very dearly and I would never jeopardize her health or privacy, ever._

_I’m also sorry for accusing you of something that didn’t happen. I felt like my trust was broken, like I was that vulnerable teenager again who didn’t want an explanation. I ran away then just like I ran away now and I’m sorry. It’s a bad habit of mine that I’ve come to realize since my trip to Spring Hill._

_Speaking of, it comes as no surprise to us both that I was reluctant to go on that trip but I’m very happy that I did. Despite how things ended I want you to know that I’m truly happy we resolved our issues from the past. I’m really sorry it took so long._

_Writing has always helped clear my head. When thoughts are swirling around my mind like a hurricane it’s comforting to get them out in this way. Since I’ve been back in New York I’ve taken the time to write down all of my thoughts about our experience together. Even though you aren’t approving the article I wanted you to read it, keep it for yourself and know just how much you’ve always meant to me._

_I wish you the very best success with your gymnastics center and your life. You deserve great things Lance Tucker, you always have._

_-Y/N_

A lump was caught in Lance’s throat with tears burning his eyes as he reread your email. He felt horrible, saying those things to you when you were innocent. He knew you would never hurt his mom and now he hated himself for yelling at you.

Lance went into the kitchen to grab something to drink, leaning over the cool countertop of the island and opening the PDF attachment within the email.

##  **_IN DEPTH_  with Lance Tucker**

**By Y/N Y/L/N**

Sacrifice. Sacrifice is a word that’s tossed around the sports industry a lot with the focus on the athlete and the things they’ve sacrificed to get to where they are today. Sacrifices are never easy; most athletes have strict diet and workout routines to adhere to others have sacrificed their time, losing hours that could be spent with friends and family in favor of practicing, training or performing halfway across the world. When you’ve achieved your goal of becoming that athlete it makes the sacrifices a little easier. They were part of the journey to the top but what about the sacrifices made to get you on the path in the first place?

Lance Tucker was a household name when he made it to the top by winning a Silver Medal in the 2004 Rome Olympics and the Gold in 2008 Beijing Olympics for the US Men’s Gymnastics Team, but the name you should know is Dorothy Tucker. If it wasn’t for the sacrifices of Dorothy, Lance’s mother, Lance would not have become the athlete we know today.

For the first time in my sports journalism career I haven’t had to do research on the person I would be going to interview. In 1989 I moved to Spring Hill, Florida and the first friend I ever made was the boy across the street, Lance Tucker. He and his mother Dorothy welcomed my family to the neighborhood and we all became very close.

Lance’s father Mitch insisted on being the sole provider for the Tucker family, something I learned later in life Dorothy protested to but after various screaming matches she ended up settling into her role as housewife.

Mitch worked long hours so Dorothy and Lance had become accustomed to being alone together. Dorothy sat through episodes of  _Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles_  with Lance excitedly jumping off the couch to reenact the fight scenes. She laughed as Lance’s little body spun around from the force of the punches he threw to the air as he pretended to fight The Foot Clan but he showed grace when he mimicked the turtles, doing cartwheels and somersaults around the living room.

On trips to the park Lance would climb the monkey bars and Dorothy noticed his agility, seeing him demonstrate more coordination and balance than his peers. So during the summer of 1988 Dorothy asked Lance to join her in watching the Olympics, she recorded the gymnastics portion and they sat down to watch it together. The three year old was mesmerized with the sport and was especially excited to see a young man with his namesake, now retired Olympian Lance Ringnald, practically flying in the air as he swung over and under, flipping his body around the high bar. From that day forward Lance wanted to become a gymnast too.

Mitch was against the idea from the start but Dorothy fought for her son, sacrificing her sanity as Mitch continually yelled, his booming voice shaking the foundation of their home, all because of some old fashioned ideas about what it means to be a man.

Mitch Tucker grew up idolizing Mickey Mantle, an extraordinary baseball player whose life outside of the field was equally as exhilarating, indulging in the Manhattan nightlife offerings of endless booze and women. In Mitch’s mind Mantle was a real man he could look up to and while he never played any professional sports he certainly tried to emulate the lifestyle of his hero.

When his young son took an interest in gymnastics it was safe to say that Mitch panicked, worrying that it would make Lance soft and feminine. It was close minded thinking ingrained in him from a long line of other close minded thinkers.

Fighting with Dorothy over Lance’s hobby became a natural part of their relationship and while he didn’t appreciate her standing up to him in some twisted sense of pride he liked the devotion she had towards his son.

Reluctantly, Mitch began to take Lance to competitions and despite his son’s talent, earning top scores and gold medals from an early age he would consistently demean Lance and his achievements, telling him he should quit and join a real sport instead.

When Lance was ten his parents separated. Mitch’s drinking and infidelity (something both Lance and I were unaware of as children) had reached an all time high but it was the way he spoke about Lance that angered Dorothy the most, Mitch was disappointed in him.

On the surface Lance was an award winning, talented gymnast who was dedicated to his training. He balanced schoolwork and house chores and still made time to see his friends. He was a smart and kind young man and he adored his mother. When you put everything together you can easily see what Mitch was disappointed in, Lance was nothing like him.

I won’t say that Dorothy sacrificed her marriage because she always deserved someone who treated her with love and respect, nevertheless with divorce on the horizon Dorothy was in need of a job. She worked hard, as a letter carrier during the week and got a second job on some nights and the weekend in a dentist’s office to ensure she could pay for Lance’s increased gymnastics training and it paid off in his achievements. Lance continued to compete and the walls of his room were decorated in medals and trophies from various competitions.

There’s a natural sense of pride in winning especially when you’ve worked as hard as Lance Tucker did. In middle school he began training exclusively with Coach Jaclyn Burrows who occupied most of his time after school and on weekends. Despite his exhaustion Lance never failed to hand in his homework and even if his body was sore and achy he never once complained. Although there was the time during my twelfth birthday party where he came very close.

It was held at a roller skating rink and Lance begged Coach Burrows to come in a few hours earlier in order to get out in time so he didn’t miss all of my party. When I saw Lance had arrived I skated over to him, jumping with excitement as he laced up his skates but the minute Lance got onto the floor his overworked legs were like jelly and they gave out on him. I helped him up as he gripped on to me and I skated us both to the benches. He apologized, asking if I would be upset if he didn’t skate. Of course I would never ask him to do that but had I said yes I know Lance would have forced himself to do it, gripping the rail against the wall for support with a smile on his face just so I would be happy.

Lance laid on the bench, resting his head on his mother’s leg as he watched me skate by, eventually closing his tired eyes and falling asleep because he was exhausted. Dorothy woke him up in time for cake although Lance couldn’t have any. He had an upcoming competition and he restricted himself, sticking to a regimented diet of lean meats and vegetables. For a thirteen year old that is sacrifice! Lance stared at the forbidden dessert decorated with flickering candles as he and I posed for a picture, smiling widely as we hugged.

By the time Lance was in his first year of high school he was completely overworked. He was training to compete for the Junior Olympic National Championships while trying to balance the heavy workload of his classes. He hardly had time to do anything, trying to read books for English class on the bus to Coach Burrow’s gymnastics center, training until it was dark, rushing through dinner and staying up late to start his homework. He was burning out easily and Dorothy hadn’t truly seen the effects until she received a call from the Principal’s office. Lance was sleep deprived and his body was too sore to move, so when the Physical Education teacher yelled at him for “being lazy” and not participating Lance snapped at the man, yelling and crying out of frustration (a terribly embarrassing scene for Lance in front of his classmates).

Dorothy wanted Lance to complete high school but she understood there was no way so she pulled him out in favor of hiring someone to homeschool him, another expense she really couldn’t afford but she made sacrifices, dropping the expensive cable TV and only buying new clothes for Lance when he absolutely needed them. Unfortunately the boy was growing into a man whose body was growing as well, becoming taller and stronger but Dorothy never complained. She mended her own wardrobe as needed so Lance could get new clothes, it was a privilege for her to sacrifice things in favor of her son.

Lance homeschooled for a few hours six days a week and he trained for seven. My family and I attended the Junior Olympic National Championships. Lance was neck and neck with Michael McNamara, each of them rotating between first and second place after each event. It wasn’t until Lance completed his routine on the high bar, expertly performing moves I still don’t know the names for that sent him to the top.

He twisted around the bar, varying his grip and changing direction. I watched with amazement at the way he skillfully controlled his body around the steel frame. Finally he swung around the bar gaining enough momentum to spring upwards, his body rotating a few times before he stuck a strong landing, reaching his arms up with achievement. The perfect execution of his routine earned him the Gold Medal with Dorothy running up to him, tears of joy streaking down her face as they celebrated a big win. Lance and I lost touch before he the 2004 Olympics but I watched as he took home the Silver medal and I was proud of him though Dorothy was the true celebrant that day; this was the culmination of the sacrifices she made.

A lot can happen in four years. In the four years between the Olympics Lance had turned from a boy on the brink of adulthood to a man at twenty-one, standing taller, stronger and more determined than ever. He pushed himself to train harder, wanting another shot at the gold.

Lance moved to Houston, Texas to train full time with Kevin Mazeika of the Houston Gymnastics Academy. Mazeika who has served on the National Team Coaching staff since 1988 spoke about Lance before Beijing stating “I’ve never met anyone as focused as Lance Tucker. He eats, sleeps and breathes gymnastics. He wants to be the best and I’ll tell ya [sic] with the way he’s training he just might be.”

Lance put himself through a grueling diet to ensure his body was at its peak physical condition. He pushed himself to the limit as he worked on his routines. He became a machine, training until ever imperfection was eradicated. He needed to be perfect.

Lance was obsessed, needing to win the gold to feel validation from the unnecessary demands he put on himself. He only visited home during the holidays and quickly returned to Houston to train. As Lance bent forward to receive his gold medal he was a changed man. He reached the top of the mountain and instead of being thankful for the journey and the sacrifices made he was boasting. To commemorate his win Lance got his infamous ribbon tattoo, a decision he looks back on now and regrets.

Lance was at the top of his career after his Olympic win, becoming the youngest National Team Coordinator in US Gymnastics history, purposely taking a position with the women’s team because his self-admitted ego would not allow him to train the men’s team and become overshadowed by anyone.

Lance had a successful career living in Los Angeles when he wasn’t travelling for USA Gymnastics and then his world came to a complete halt when the scandals broke.

Psychologists have argued about the various reasons why we like scandals. They’re a form of entertainment, a real life soap opera that plays out before our eyes, they give us distraction from our own lives, sometimes making us feel good if we can compare ourselves to the persons involved and think we’re better than them because of this.

In the early 1990’s sports scandals became surprisingly common beginning with the attack on Nancy Kerrigan followed by the O.J. Simpson murder trial. The scandals were ubiquitous between the endless cycle of news programs and media coverage.

On the day of the Simpson verdict everyone was waiting with bated breath, with workplaces standing still, listening to the radio to hear whether the former football player was deemed guilty or innocent. The actual verdict was irrelevant since the story was so sensationalized it had become detached from the facts. Instead of being concerned about the horrific murder of Nicole Brown-Simpson and Ron Goldman, the country was in hysterics over Johnnie Cochran’s infamous glove line. It seems like people will always enjoy the entertainment that scandals bring as long as they aren’t affected by them personally.

When Lance Tucker was at the center of various scandals his life was forever changed. A student accused him of fathering her child, another accused him of rape, and while every accusation was proven to be untrue Lance was let go by USA Gymnastics, a direct result of the case with former National Team Doctor Larry Nassar. USAG was under fire for not protecting the athletes as their employees who worked in and around Nassar at the Karolyi Ranch failed to report or tried to cover up the incidences.

Lance believed he was wrongfully let go as he was innocent and began to prepare an appeal until he received devastating news about his mother. Dorothy had cancer and with that knowledge Lance shed the hard exterior he created, his arrogance cracking on the ground like shattered glass.

Lance returned to Spring Hill, taking up permanent residence to be closer to Dorothy and assist her with treatment. Lance sacrificed his career, having neither the time nor care to make an appeal to USA Gymnastics, staying in the shadows instead to care for his mother, the woman who sacrificed so much during her life for him.

Eventually Lance needed a source of income as the money he previously earned through endorsements was dwindling quickly thanks to the expensive healthcare system. He refinanced his home to start a business, Tucker Gymnastics in the heart of Spring Hill.

While Dorothy battled cancer Lance found the strength to fight as well, finally appealing the committee’s decision with a motion to be reinstated. Lance’s decision to do so was not for himself but for his mother, wanting to make up for his past behavior when fame and arrogance became more important in his life. He sought to bring honor back to the Tucker name so that Dorothy would know how appreciative Lance was for all the sacrifices she made for him, though Dorothy didn’t need any of that. She loves her son wholeheartedly and she would do it all over again to ensure his happiness, knowing his love in return is all she ever needed.

Tucker Gymnastics is in its infancy but under the care and direction of Lance Tucker I have no doubt the gymnastics center will flourish. Lance has lived a lifetime of ups and downs both personal and professional, he’s an excellent teacher and coach, and future gymnasts will have an opportunity to learn great things from him.

However the greatest gift Lance can give to his future students is the knowledge of firsthand experience. Lance wants them to learn about the path to the top of the mountain and the sacrifices they will make along the way. He wants to provide guidance for when they’re at the top and how to safely get back down and avoid the mistakes he’s made.

The price of gold is high and Lance Tucker wants to ensure his students know the sacrifice it takes to pay it.◼️

 

Lance had been crying as he read the article, wiping his tears on his sleeve. He was overcome with emotion as you fondly recalled your memories of his childhood, painted his life honestly and above all unexpectedly praising his mom in a way no one else had done before.

It was beautiful. He sniffled, ripping a paper towel off the roll and blowing his nose with it. His heart ached as it beat against his chest wondering how he ever could have questioned you in regards to the phone call. His throat became dry so he quickly finished his sports drink, wiping the tears from his face once more.

Lance didn’t know what to do with himself now. He felt terrible and wanted to apologize. He wanted to speak with you, to fly to New York and hold you in his arms again. To tell you how much you meant to him, to tell you that he loves you.

He ruined things between you though. He was embarrassed with himself, he yelled at you for the first time in his life and he hated it. He yelled at you like his father yelled at his mother, raising his voice loud enough to talk over you, shouting from the pit of his stomach. He was cruel, just like his father, the comparison disgusts him. He didn’t deserve you.

Lance took a shower to clear his mind and after tossing and turning for hours he finally grabbed his phone from the nightstand, opening your message and briefly replying “Print it.”

***

The beeping of your alarm awoke you from the peaceful sleep you finally managed to fall into. The moment your eyes opened you went to your phone. You hated how eager you were to see if Lance responded but you had to. Seeing his reply made your heart race but as you read his message it stopped entirely.

Lance’s short reply brought tears to your eyes. At least Susan will be happy he’s going forward with the article but there was no mention of your apology even though you explained the truth. Maybe he still thinks you’re lying or maybe he doesn’t care. The fact that his response was all business made you painfully aware of the fact that whatever you and Lance had in the past is where it should have stayed.

***

The months had passed and you were now in the middle of a new assignment, one drastically different than your last. Alexander Ovechkin of the Washington Capitals was a wild man. He was so funny and watching him prank his teammates reminded you of college days. He was a sweetheart though, lighting up when he spoke about doing charity work and opening up about losing his brother when he was young.

He never let you stay in the background, making sure you were front and center for everything going on in his life, which is why you were currently celebrating with him and the team in Las Vegas after their Stanley Cup win.

It was such an exciting series to watch and it was definitely a different experience covering an athlete while they were in the middle of a season. Ovi, as you were told to call him, was thrilled being named the MVP for the team but he didn’t let it get to his head. Despite the champagne bottles popping he was eager to head home. His wife Anastasia was pregnant with their first child and he was anxious to start preparing a nursery.

The buzz of the alcohol went right to your head as you enjoyed the after party. You couldn’t get away with not drinking but you cut yourself off after the second glass of champagne, you still had a job to do. You felt your phone vibrating not expecting your mom to be calling at this time, especially considering she was three hours ahead.

Squeezing past the group of very large hockey players you found yourself in a less noisy hallway and answered the phone.

“Mom, is everything okay?” you shouted, sticking your finger in your other ear to block out the background noise.

Your mom exhaled a heavy breath into the phone, “Dorothy passed away yesterday.”


	18. Chapter 18

Two men ran through the hallway with boisterous laughter not noticing as you steadied yourself against the wall with one hand. As you shut your eyes tears fell down your cheeks. Dorothy Tucker, the woman you loved like a mother, who at one point you dreamed would become your mother-in-law, who loved and cared for you as much as you did her, was gone.

“W-when’s the funeral?” your shaky voice croaked.

After getting the details from your mom you bought tickets for a flight you’d be rushing to make even if you left that second. You still needed to pack your things and let Alexander know you’d have to leave. Entering your credit card information on your phone while navigating through a party and looking for someone was more difficult than you imagined but finally both tasks were completed. Alexander understood, giving you a comforting hug which you appreciated though you really needed to get going.

Racing down to your hotel room you grabbed everything, tossing them into your suitcase, hoping you didn’t forget anything in your rushed state. Your foot was bouncing nervously on the way to the airport hoping you would get there quickly.

You grabbed your bag from the trunk, getting antsy as you waited for the slow revolving doors to let you into the terminal. Even though it was nearing midnight the airport was crowded. One of the perks of being a frequent flyer is the service you pay for to skip the long security line in favor of one that moves much faster and you were more than thankful for it tonight.

Running towards the gate you made it just in time before they closed the boarding doors. You sat back in your seat with your heart racing, hoping your deodorant was still working because between your nerves and sprinting through the airport you were sweating like crazy.

You forced yourself to sleep during the flight even though your adrenaline was still pumping. It was difficult to find a comfortable spot in the aisle seat, you struggled to find a position that wouldn’t hurt your neck too badly or have you end up leaning on your neighbor’s shoulder. You managed to lean in a somewhat tolerable way against the seat, your heavy eyelids shutting and allowing you some rest.

When you opened your eyes they fought back in protest, wanting to remain shut. The flight wasn’t that long and you were desperate for more sleep but you needed to wake up. With the timezone change it was nearing eight in the morning and you still needed to change into appropriate clothes, pick up your rental car and grab a large coffee to help keep you awake.

Had you not been in a rush you would have had your parents pick you up at the airport but considering the tight schedule you didn’t want them to be late like you might end up being. Dorothy was their friend too for many years so they needed to be there.

Before the flight began its descent you went to the bathroom to fix your hair and put on a little makeup, having thrown only a few basics into your bag. You tried to fix your hair but there really wasn’t much you could do apart from using your hands to ensure it wasn’t a mess.

You sighed in relief when you spotted your suitcase on the carousel, going into the nearest restroom to change. The stall didn’t give you much room but you maneuvered yourself into a plain black blouse and pants, both unfortunately a little wrinkled thanks to your hasty packing.

After putting on your heels and zipping up your suitcase you walked briskly towards the car rental counter, telling them you were in a rush to get to a funeral after they insisted for the third time in telling you about paying for the gas refill in advance. Thanks to Rick, the talkative Alamo representative you were running even later than you anticipated so there was no time for coffee.

Getting in the car you were a little nervous. You hadn’t driven in a  _long_ time, not ever needing a car in New York, so you hoped you would be able to pick it up again without trouble. Pulling out of the parking garage was a little less than graceful as you adjusted to the feel of the brakes but you quickly got the hang of it, remembering great teacher you had.

***

Sunday mornings were made for sleeping in. Typically you didn’t start work until noon so you took pleasure in staying in bed until the very last minute before you had to get ready to leave, that was until Lance decided he would teach you how to drive.

You had your learner’s permit and he had a car. Lance was an excellent driver and your parents had no reservations about him teaching you. The unfortunate part was that because of your schedules Lance could only teach you on Sunday mornings.

You crossed the street, yawning as you hugged him, knowing you could easily fall asleep standing up in his embrace.

“Come on sweetheart,” he said as you gripped him tighter, not wanting to move.

Groaning into his stomach you whined, “I really don’t want to. I have my period and I just wanna go back to bed.” You pouted looking at him.

You never shied away from discussing that with Lance, living with his mother taught him to respect the normal process your body went through and he was more than willing to comfort you when you were in pain.

“I know babe that’s why I brought you this,” he said, holding a Vitamin Water and a banana, knowing your cramps tended to make you a slightly nauseous but you’d feel worse if you didn’t eat a little something. “And after we’re done we can go to Doc’s for chocolate chip pancakes.”

Doc’s Diner had the  _hands down_  best chocolate chip pancakes in the world as far as you were concerned, not that you had travelled the world at that point. Lance rubbed circles on your back and kissed your forehead as you hummed in agreement before you got into his car.

Lance had a used Camry, it was a more than a few years old but it ran well. Dorothy had purchased it for him through a colleague who let her pay for it over the course of a few months. Before he took off he looked over towards you, watching you gulp half the bottle down, an audible “ahh” leaving your mouth as you wiped away traces of the liquid from the top of your lip with the back of your hand and he smiled thinking about how you’ve always been yourself.

Dating never changed who you were. Unlike some of your friends who began dating, you didn’t act like an ethereal being that always wore makeup and never went to the bathroom in front of their boyfriends. You weren’t afraid to be yourself with Lance because that was who he was in love with.

Lance drove to the parking lot of a Toys ‘R’ Us that wouldn’t see any traffic for a few hours. He taught you how to drive based on the lessons his mother gave him, educating you on the different levers, buttons and the meanings of the symbols on the dashboard. When you first started you were so nervous steering the vehicle around the lot that you didn’t give it any gas and hovered your foot above the brake.

Eventually you became more confident having better control of the car. Turns were smooth, your parking was better, well not your parallel parking, that needed more work. Lance had set up orange cones for you to park in between and you just weren’t getting the angle right. You became frustrated but Lance never lost his patience with you.

“It’s okay Y/N. You’ll get it,” he said as you groaned in frustration.

“Maybe I won’t need to drive. When you’re a big famous athlete we’ll take the limo everywhere,” you joked.

A goofy smile spread across his face. He knew you were kidding about the limo but the sentiment behind it made his heart swell. You always believed in him from the start even when you didn’t know what the Olympics were you believed in his dream. Lance believed in you too knowing you could achieve anything, including parallel parking.

***

New York’s transportation system was efficient but you missed being behind the wheel and the independence it gave you. Driving made you think about all of the dreams you and Lance planned when you were young, wanting to road trip across America to see everything the land had to offer; speeding on the open road with smiles on your face as the wind whipped through your hair.

There was no speeding today as the morning rush hour slowed things down but you finally made it to the church, catching the door so it closed softly. As the priest was talking you scanned the crowd, finding your parents with relief. You made your way over to them, taking quiet footsteps so your heels did not clack on the floor.

After the madness it took to get yourself here you finally had a moment to let it sink in, especially as you stared at the cherry wood casket adorned with a large spray of white and lilac flowers. Your eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to spill as it hit you, Dorothy Tucker was really gone. You were lost in your thoughts before realizing the priest was done speaking and invited Lance to the podium.

Dressed in a sharp black suit Lance stood up, his hands shaking as he pulled out a paper from his pocket. He looked broken and you wanted to run to him, to wrap your arms around him and hold him together. Lance scanned the crowd and audibly sighed when he made eye contact with you before focusing his eyes on the paper.

As Lance began his speech you gripped your Dad’s hand, squeezing it tightly each time Lance paused to steady his voice, clearing his throat so it didn’t crack. His hand continued to shake as he read a beautiful speech highlighting some of Dorothy’s best qualities; there were so many you wondered how he was able to narrow it down.

You didn’t hold back your tears, they flowed freely down your face as you cried and laughed at the sweet memories Lance shared. Sniffling every few seconds caused a tissue to appear before you, courtesy of your mother leaning over, whose own face was streaked by tears.

“If it wasn’t for the sacrifices my mom made I wouldn’t be where I am today,” Lance said, pausing to look at you, your lips slightly parted as you realized he was paraphrasing your article.

It was difficult to hold back your whimpers, not just because he was eulogizing his mother but because of how he included your article which obviously meant more to him than you thought. You wished he had said more in his email, even if the rekindled flame was put out once and for all you just wanted to know. You pushed aside your thoughts, now was not the time or place to bring any of this up.

“Mom had some trouble with her memory but I never let her forget just how much I…” Lance paused to clear his throat, “…how much I loved her. She’ll always have a place in the hearts of those who knew her. Thank you all for coming today to remember her.”

Tears were running down Lance’s face, he thumbed them away as he sat down again. The priest closed with a prayer and a woman accompanied by an organist began to sing a hymn. Your voice would have been to broken to sing aloud so you listened instead as her angelic voice echoed “Ave Maria” throughout the room. Your vision was blurred with tears but your eyes held Lance’s gaze as clear as day as he followed the priest out of the church.

The family lined up at the entrance of the church and you got in line with everyone else to give your condolences. Dorothy had a brother named Harry you met a long time ago when he and his family came to visit from Montana. You and Lance played with his cousins, the twins Jennifer and Jonathan who stood before now you all grown up. You’re not sure they would remember you but you shook their hands all the same. There was a glimmer of recognition in Harry’s eyes as you offered your condolences for the loss of his sister.

As you approached Lance you felt nerves bubbling in your stomach, unsure if you should put your hand out to shake his or give him a hug. Lance didn’t give you a choice however as he wrapped his arms around you for a tearful hug.

“I’m so sorry Lance,” you whispered against the shell of his ear. He held you closer and you rubbed his back hearing him sniffling. There wasn’t much more to say but neither of you wanted to let go.

Dull chatter increased around you and you realized you were holding up the line. You broke the hug and made a motion to leave before Lance asked if you were following the hearse to the cemetery. You nodded and moved to the side as your parents took turns hugging Lance.

They made their way towards you for another tearful reunion. “You look tired,” your Dad spoke, breaking the silence.

Suppressing a yawn you nodded, “I am, but I wasn’t going to miss this.” You shared a sad smile with your parents before continuing. “I’m surprised, Lance looked like he was happy to see, well, as happy as he could be at least.”

“How do you think we found out about Dorothy?” your Mom said, explaining Lance asked them to tell you. Your brows furrowed as you wondered aloud why he didn’t call you himself. “You’ll have to talk to him sweetie.”

“I’m scared, Mom,” you whimpered and she wrapped her arms around you.

Nadia came up to you for another tearful hug, introducing the man beside as her boyfriend Owen. You chatted briefly with them until it was time to leave.

As everyone walked to the parking lot your mom asked if you wanted her company on the drive to the cemetery but you wanted to be alone with your thoughts. You did take her packet of tissues and tried to clean up your eyes as you waited for the cars to take off.

The crowd had lessened at the cemetery with just Dorothy’s family and close friends surrounding the open grave. The strong morning sun was beating down, the dark material of your clothes absorbing the heat like a sponge.

Leaning against your parents you looked around finding that everybody had someone with them. You had your parents, Nadia was with Owen, Harry had his wife Yolanda, Jennifer and Jonathan were with their respective spouses and there stood Lance, surrounded by people yet he was alone. 

His saddened eyes focused on the casket being placed onto the lowering device. Moving away from your parents you walked over to Lance, feeling him startle slightly as you grabbed his hand. He looked beside him to see your sympathetic smile, the corner of his mouth twitching slightly in return. As Dorothy’s casket was lowered into the ground you gave him a comforting squeeze, holding tight until it was over.

Lance huffed, wiping his face once more and you stood there without saying anything. He caught your form, you were shifting on your heels, trying to keep your balance on the uneven grass. Breaking the silence Lance cleared his throat, “We’re going to the Old Village Inn now. I… could you please come?” he hesitantly asked.

You hadn’t planned on anything more than the funeral but there was no way you could say no, not to the broken hearted face of the man you still loved. It was true, no matter what happened you would always love Lance Tucker.

Your mom drove your rental car to the restaurant as your crying exhausted you to the point where it wouldn’t be safe to drive. You needed food and coffee, lots of coffee! By the time you got there three seats were open and you took the one closest to Lance.

Everyone made small talk, Uncle Harry shouting out that he remembered you and the time you and Lance were dressed as Jasmine and Aladdin for Halloween. Dorothy told him about the temper tantrum Lance had when he wanted to be the Genie which made the whole table laugh. Lance smiled for the first time in a while and it was nice to hear everyone talk about their wonderful memories of Dorothy.

You and Lance shared awkward glances when your legs would brush against each other’s and as everyone leisurely finished their meals Lance asked if he could speak with you.

Exiting through the front of the restaurant you sat outside on a small bench together. It was silent for a moment before you both spoke at the same time and laughed.

“No, you go first,” Lance offered.

Inhaling the warm air you turned to face him, “I’m so sorry Lance. I feel responsible for the phone call that upset her. If I hadn’t come here…”

“Stop. You’re not…” Lance swiped his face hard and exhaled deeply. “I know you had nothing to do with that. I’m sorry I snapped. She was sick and I was angry, I needed something, someone to blame but I shouldn’t have taken it out on you Y/N.”

Lance looked off towards the street watching the cars pass by before he faced you again and sighed, “Mom was never going to get better.”

Lance knew that, from the moment Dorothy was diagnosed he knew that. He hated that he made you believe you contributed in any way to her condition, he hated that he made you regret coming to see him because he didn’t. He was anxious at first, after not seeing you for so long, with the unresolved issue of your breakup hanging in the air but not once did he regret it. He’s loved you, always.

“I don’t regret what happened, reconciling with you and,” he looked towards his lap and smirked, “and, well everything,” he said, remembering your more intimate moments and the fact that he can no longer sit poolside without thinking about you.

Heat crept up on your cheeks as you knew what he was referring to, and then instead of speaking you couldn’t help but cover your mouth for a big yawn. “I’m so sorry!” you exclaimed over the sound of him chuckling. “Long flight, time zones…” you chuckled while pinching the bridge of your nose.

There was silence again but this time you broke, “I missed you Lance.” You looked at him with a sweet smile.

“Me too. I’m sorry I didn’t call. The way I yelled at you, I didn’t know how to come back from that. I thought you deserved someone better than me.”

Taking his hand into your lap you ran your fingers along his long digits, feeling the way his thumb reached up to gently caress your hand as it glided over his. “There’s no one better for me than you. I love you Lance,” you said firmly.

“I love you too Y/N.” Lance inched forward, gazing at your lips and back up to your eyes, puffy and red from crying but you were always beautiful. The distance between you was closed as you kissed, slowly and ardently, it was everything at once, the high high’s, the low low’s, a lifetime of memories that you’ve shared and lost before coming together again.

Lance could feel you smiling before you pulled apart, staring at his eyes that expressed relief in them for the first time in a while before resting your head on his shoulder. You felt a soft nudge and looked up in slight confusion, realizing you had briefly fallen asleep. “I’m sorry!” you exclaimed once again with Lance kissing your temple in return.

“Are you going back with your parents?” he asked.  
“I don’t know. We didn’t talk about anything. Tomorrow I have to get to D.C. to finish with Ovi.”

Lance frowned, feeling a pang of jealously towards the latest subject for your article, the person who would be spending time with you, something he was desperately craving again.

“Stay,” his eyes pleaded, “Just for today, please.”

For once your heart and mind were on the same page and you nodded in response, lacing your hands together with Lance as you walked back inside.

***

From that moment you and Lance were officially together, now managing the difficulties of a long distance relationship that became even longer depending on where you were flying for work. Lance was lucky he was busy with the center and the influx of new students thanks largely in part to your article Lance believed though you knew it was all because of him.

After Dorothy’s passing Tucker Gymnastics was dedicated in her honor, the plaque hanging next to the photo that once sat on Lance’s desk of Dorothy proudly staring at him after his Junior Olympic National Championship win. Your article was framed as well, hanging in the entryway beside them. Lance walks by it every day, knowing the words by heart.

Lance’s phone rings and he sees your photo calling in to FaceTime him. Passing the newest trainers he hired Lance went into his office, closing the door to answer your call.

“Hi baby!” you exclaimed and he grinned from ear to ear as he saw your beautiful smiling face on the screen.  
“Hi gorgeous. Where are you off to now?” he said, seeing you were sitting in an airport terminal.

“Singapore. Michelle’s got a tournament,” you said, speaking of your current “In Depth” assignment on golfer Michelle Wie. “We’ll be there for a few days but after that I was thinking maybe I could come see you.” You bit your lip in anticipation, hoping his schedule was open.

Lance smiled, “I’d love that. I can’t wait to see you again.” After blowing audible kisses to your phone you said goodbye, for now.

That became your lives over the course of the next few months. You and Lance were always talking and texting. Skyping came in handy too, especially on the nights you were both lonely and desperate for each other. It was a little awkward at first as you stripped in front of your laptop but watching Lance’s teeth catch his bottom lip and the lustful look in his eyes, combined with this downright sinful moaning encouraged and reassured you. This was a natural part of your relationship now though nothing beat the real thing.

Travel was always exhausting and now when you were able to you added an extra stop to see Lance before flying home. He came to New York too when he could schedule enough coverage for the center, spending a cold winter weekend together.

“I think this is the first winter coat I’ve ever had and I’m  _still_ cold,” Lance said through chattering teeth.

The lightly puffed jacket was hardly a winter coat, not by the standards of any sensible Northerner, though Lance was wearing layers underneath, most likely every long sleeved jacket he owned. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face if you tried, not that you wanted to, you were overjoyed spending time with your boyfriend, even if he was freezing his firm ass off.

Visible puffs of air were exhaled from his mouth, his nose and cheeks were an adorable rosy red which made you smile and hug him even tighter to share your warmth. Lance pulled his phone out to take selfies with the Rockefeller Christmas tree in the background just as flurries began to fall from the sky, it felt so magical.

Back at your apartment any lingering chill in Lance’s body quickly dissipated as you steamed up the place, not leaving your bedroom unless absolutely necessary.

The routine continued to wear you down. You spent over a month in Russia covering the World Cup with an excruciating amount of interviews with all of the teams. With the timezone gap and spotty service you hadn’t spoken to Lance much either. You missed him a lot, crying like a lovesick teenager because you wanted to be pressed against Lance’s firm chest with his strong arms holding you tight.

It was difficult to keep your spirits up even with the excitement in the air and it showed when you had to force a smile while talking to Neymar. It was unbelievable how much things had changed. Once you were so excited about scheduling him for “In Depth” before your plans unwillingly changed. Josh’s eventual article with the footballer was alright, you know you could have explored so much more if you had gotten your way but now you were thankful. Spring Hill wasn’t just your hometown anymore, it was the bridge that brought you and Lance back together.

By the time you came home you were exhausted, losing all of your remaining energy after walking up all those flights of stairs as you pulled your heavy suitcase up behind you. You couldn’t do this anymore. The final straw was looking at your house plant, its leaves brown and crisp; it was the seventh one you’ve managed to kill since you were never home, hardly spending time in the place you pay an insane amount of money to without getting a chance to even enjoy it.

What was there to enjoy anyway? Certainly not the stairs, and your apartment wasn’t high enough to avoid the noisy streets from car horns to people screaming and all that construction. How much construction can one city be under all of the time?! Your last winter was the first one you actually enjoyed, well only on the days Lance was there to keep you warm. When the temperatures dropped below zero and snow blanketed the city you looked outside in disgust. You watered the dead plant hoping to revive it but you didn’t hold out any hope. The plant, much like your love for New York, had died and you needed to make a change.

***

Sue welcomed you into her office for the meeting you asked to hold. You were taking a big risk in potentially losing the best job you’ve ever had, a job you can honestly say you’ve loved with your whole heart. Sue listened to your proposal of relocating as you explained your workload over the last few years had made it so you spent very few days in the office. Most of your writing was done from home anyway so not much would change.

If Sue agreed to this then you would be able to move in with Lance. It was something you both discussed in the past, on the days he was excited to finally see you again and let you know just how much he missed you carrying you up into his bed. By the time his shirt came off you had fallen asleep and so he pulled you close to him. It wasn’t the physical contact he was thinking of but he loved it nonetheless. He felt sorry you were always so tired, splitting your days between him and work, wanting to give all of yourself to each part but you were wearing thin.

It was nerve wracking to sit there, wringing your clammy hands in your lap as Sue contemplated your proposal, especially since you had no alternatives on the horizon. Relief came as her neutral face broke into a smile in agreement, and even though the phrase “Quit while you’re ahead” was running through your mind you took another risk.

“You want to quit ‘In Depth’?” she gasped.

Releasing a shaky breath you steadied your nerves to better explain yourself. “Not exactly. I love that series, it’s given me so many opportunities to travel the world. I have wonderful memories from it,” your hand instinctively touched the chain of a necklace Lance had given you during the holidays.

If it wasn’t for “In Depth” you wouldn’t have reunited with Lance but you couldn’t keep doing this. Even if you were based out of Florida “In Depth” requires a lot of travel time. Your priorities have changed, wanting to give your growing relationship with Lance a fair shot, but you didn’t want to give up your career.

“I want to start a new series.” Something with less travel you said in your head. Sue tilted her head, waiting for you to continue. “Living Legends. I want to focus on some of the greatest athletes who are no longer in the game, especially the ones that are out of the spotlight. You know what I’m capable of Sue, I can bring out something new!”

“I don’t know Y/N. “In Depth” is successful…”

“Right and I’m not saying I want to stop it, not completely. Maybe it can be a quarterly feature,” you said chewing on your lip as Sue’s expression looked increasingly worried. “At least give this series a try.”

You hoped not to sound so desperate but you had been thinking about this for a while, even putting some feelers out there. Sue still looked uncertain so you decided to drop the bomb you were holding back, knowing this would push her over the edge.

“I’ve already spoken to Jordan, he’s on board.”

“Jordan? As in Michael Jordan? As in ‘I don’t do interviews anymore’ Michael Jordan?” she frantically questioned.

With bright eyes you nodded in response, watching Sue’s thoughts display on her face as she went from shock to denial, wondering how you were able to get him to even respond to you. Finally she smiled widely before toning it to a more respectable grin. Sue agreed to your full proposal with reluctance. After the incident with Heather you had gotten closer, and though she didn’t see you much in the office she would certainly miss you.

Lance came up one weekend to help you pack. He had arranged for a moving truck to drive your things down to Spring Hill. You both decided that some of your furniture could be used to furnish some of the empty rooms of Lance’s house. If this were any other relationship you wouldn’t be moving in so quickly but you and Lance had a long history and with all of the distance you’ve had since getting back together it didn’t seem right to either of you that you should be apart anymore.

When you left Spring Hill for college you thought you left for good. Now as you looked around your empty apartment, your belongings packed away in boxes you couldn’t help but laugh at the notion that you were headed home. Though home has never been a physical place.

Lance was your home, his eyes were the guiding lights that lead you up the walkway, his heart was the door that welcomed you into his warmth, and now that you were together every room would feel brighter and every meal would feel heartier as your love spread throughout the walls.

Unpacking had been relatively easy as you did it together with Lance’s playlist blasting in the background. When “The Message” came on he stopped helping to dance instead, climbing on top of the dresser, his red track jacket swishing as he moved his arms to the beat. 

Your laughter filled the room, the sweet melody playing in his home like he always dreamed about. Soon he was in front of you, moving his hips and shaking his ass like crazy because you kept laughing and he never wanted that sound to end. 

Cupping his cheeks you brought his face to yours, laughing as you went to kiss the duck lips he was making that softened once he felt your lips on his. Lance kissed you back passionately, making sure you knew just how much he loved you.

Lance’s house quickly became your shared house as you brought warmth to the formerly cold space. Picture frames hung around the house of you together, mostly newer ones with the occasional photo from your childhood. Your mom had brought the Lance box with her on a visit to see you and later that night you surprised Lance showing him the teddy bear that wore his first medal. The bear was proudly displayed on a shelf for everyone to see, it was the most important medal Lance ever won, his first that he gave to you.

Work had become a lot more enjoyable. You still travelled but not as much. “Living Legends” was mainly handled through daily Skype sessions and the occasional trip to visit the athlete if they were older and didn’t care for the technology. The series became a success and your inbox was full of retired athletes asking to be included.

The future is unpredictable. At four years old you believed your future involved you becoming a mermaid. At sixteen you knew it was too early to plan a wedding with Lance but you still dreamed about it. Today you don’t have the answers but whatever the future had planned for you and Lance didn’t matter because you knew you would handle things together. You were stronger than ever, able to face anything life threw at you after overcoming something neither of you ever thought would be possible.

Now as you sit together, curled under Lance’s arm as your head rests against his chest, declaring your love for each other in a breathless whisper, at last you were home again filling each other’s hearts with the warmth of your love; ending up just like your parents always knew you would be, together.


	19. Chapter 19

Saturdays were the busiest day for Tucker Gymnastics, with most parents available on the weekend to accompany their kids as they learned gymnastics from one of the very best in the field. On this particular Saturday the center was closed for a private event, one that would show no profits but make Lance Tucker’s heart richer with love.

Today was his daughter’s third birthday, Ariel Tucker, named after her mother’s favorite mermaid, and Lance closed the center to the public to finally give Ariel her first official gymnastics lesson.

Waking up slowly you felt Lance’s chest pressed to your back, hearing his soft snores made your lips curve into smile with a sudden urge to look at his face. Shifting on to your back Lance inhaled stiffly, the corners of his lips pulling upwards as he nuzzled against you again.

“Good morning beautiful,” he said in a raspy whisper, his eyes still closed. It was the way he greeted you every morning since you moved in together and you never got tired of hearing it.

Within two years you and Lance were married. It was the wedding you always dreamed of. Held at an estate south of Spring Hill you were married with an ocean backdrop, a cool breeze flowing through the air. Friends and family surrounding you to celebrate your special day, with both you and Lance shedding a few more tears than anticipated.

The moment he saw you it was like the world stopped spinning. Accompanied by your father, you glided down the aisle like an angel floating through the heavens. Wearing a strapless ivory mermaid style dress, lace and beads beautifully accentuated your body. Carrying a large bouquet of cascading flowers colored like the beautiful sunset behind him Lance thought it was the perfect accent to a more than perfect wedding, that is until you stood before him.

The tears that had formed in his eyes suddenly dropped down his cheeks as he smiled at the delicate pearls around your neck. They were Dorothy’s, given to you after her passing as part of her wishes. You knew the significance, these were the pearls Lance’s Grandma Ruth had worn on her wedding which she passed down to Dorothy for her wedding who always knew she would give it to you.

You choked back your own tears, smiling as you and Lance held each other’s hands during the ceremony, thinking knowing how lucky you were that after half of your lives apart you found each other again.

“Good morning baby,” you replied, scratching your fingers through his hair, enjoying the surprisingly peaceful morning for as long as you could.

His hair was shorter now than how he used to wear it, in combination with the beard he hadn’t shaved Lance definitely looked older but more distinguished. No longer was he the spiky haired arrogant gymnast but the man you always dreamed you would grow old with (and thankfully no warts were to be found!)

“Speaking of babies,” he paused to rub his hand along your swollen belly, “How is the little guy doing?”

You were halfway through your second pregnancy, the name of your son to be determined, for now he was just “the little guy” and you were excited to welcome him as part of your growing family.

“Well he’s pressing on my bladder and if I don’t get up right this second I’m definitely going to pee on the bed,” you joked.

It was time to get up anyway, with Ariel’s giddy anticipation for her birthday you certain she would come flying into your bedroom any minute. Pushing yourself to sit up you were about to get off the bed before Lance called out for you to wait.

Turning around he stood on his knees in the center of the bed, dressed in boxers and white t-shirt, moving closer towards you for a kiss. Despite his morning breath you would have kissed him for hours, or until Ariel would undoubtedly come in, but at this moment you  _had_ to push him away as you clenched your legs together while running to the bathroom.

Lance laughed at your loud sigh of relief through the door for finally being able to pee. He laid back on the bed, his arm thrown over his eyes to block the strong morning sunlight from coming in through the window. With a smile plastered on his face Lance thinks about how lucky he is to have this life.

He’s pulled from his peaceful reprieve as the pitter-patter of tiny feet echo off the wood floor, with tiny hands reaching up and grabbing the blanket. A quiet voice squeaks out a call for her Dad who turns and smiles at his little girl, lifting her up. Purple painted toes support her tiny frame that barely makes a dent on the mattress.

Born six weeks premature, Ariel required a short stay in the NICU, with you and Lance at her side every day. She made it through without any major complications except for the fact that her parents were even more overprotective of her. It was the main reason Lance hadn’t begun teaching her gymnastics.

You and Ariel visited Lance quite often at the center and she was always squirming to get out of your arms and join her Dad and the other kids for what she thought was playtime. She was so much smaller than the other children, and even though Lance would be at her side through each move he didn’t want his little girl to get hurt in any way; you both agreed she wasn’t ready yet.

Lance kissed her forehead, rolling down her  _Doc McStuffins_  pajama top that shifted up to expose her cute belly button.

“Daddy guesshhwhat?”

Lance sat up against the headboard, “What is it Starfish?” he excitedly asked.

“Is my buhhthday!” she grinned, showing off her tiny teeth.  
“It is?” he feigned surprise. “How old are you today?”  
“I’m thwee!” she replied, holding up three small fingers.

“No you can’t be three! You’re my little baby,” Lance said, scooping her up into his arms as if he were cradling an infant, pressing kisses all over her face as she giggled from his ticklish beard.

“No. I’m. Big. Girl,” she said in between fits of laughter.

Lance shifted Ariel so she faced him, “Okay, okay, you’re my big girl. What does my big girl want to do for her birthday?”

Ariel’s face lit up like fireworks, “Tumbwle!”

You stood in the doorframe watching their exchange, your heart growing bigger in size at the love Lance had for your daughter. He was the perfect father, loving, gentle, kind; he was the antithesis of Mitch Tucker.

“Daddy and I will take you to tumble but first we have a surprise for you!” you spoke up, your voice catching your daughter’s attention.

She jumped out of Lance’s arms, plopping down towards the end of the bed as you walked towards her. Sitting on her knees she was face to face with your large stomach and pressed a kiss to your shirt.

“Good mawning bwother,” she said. For now Ariel was excited to have a sibling, once your or Lance’s attention is diverted from her there might be an issue.

Ariel was a rambunctious child with an equal mix of Lance and your younger selves in her. She loved to sing, making up her own songs that she would perform as you and Lance sat together on the couch watching and cheering for her.

Like her namesake she was always in the water, with you and Lance playing “mermaids” with her. With floaties secured around her arms you would hold her by the waist on the surface of the water as her arms swept out in front of her with her legs wildly splashing behind. Ariel would swim to Lance and rescue him from the evil Ursula, also known as a smiling inflatable octopus pool toy.

When she was out of the water Ariel was never without her favorite teddy bear, your own childhood bear that once sat on the shelf proudly displaying Lance’s first medal, that is until Ariel made grabby hands and began to cry for the doll. The medal is now on your nightstand, hanging off a framed photo from your wedding day, a daily reminder of how far you and Lance have come.

Lance dressed Ariel as you prepared breakfast. Things had changed so much since you were a kid, now there were endless recipes on Pinterest to choose from, some you were able to master and others not so much. Today you made whole grain pancakes, pouring out two smaller circles of batter that would become the ears on the bear you were going to create. Using banana slices you placed them on the smaller pancakes as the inside of the bear’s ear, and one on the larger pancake as the snout, with chocolate chips becoming the eyes and nose.

In a small bowl was a plain yogurt with a fruit rainbow of raspberries, mandarin oranges, sliced green grapes and blueberries. So much work goes into preparing such a pretty breakfast all the time, your parents definitely had it easier.

Clinging to Lance’s frame as he went down the steps Ariel wore a coral halter romper with a hibiscus flower print and white strappy sandals with a large flower embellishment. He placed her at the table in her booster seat as she smiled at her pancakes.

“Where’s Teddy?” she worriedly asked before you brought him out from the table behind her.

Teddy required delicate cleaning since he was an old bear, something you occasionally did overnight as Ariel slept.

After eating and cleaning up yogurt on Ariel’s cheeks the three of you grab the bag you packed and head out to the garage. You handed Lance your car keys as you opened the door for Ariel, securing her in her car seat as Lance adjusted the mirrors.

“You know you’re gonna need a new car babe,” you said, as Lance pulled out of the garage and clicked a button for the door to close.

Lance still had his convertible Mustang though the top has been up every time he’s driven with Ariel as per your insistence.

“There’s no way you’re going to be able to fit another car seat in that thing,” you continued.

“Yeah I know,” he defeatedly huffed. “But there’s no way I’m getting a minivan!”

You burst out laughing as he looked over at you, his blue eyes full of stern conviction.

“Definitely not!” you agreed. “You’ll have to get something soon though, the little guy’s coming in a just a few months.”

“There’s still so much to do! New car, finish his room, NAME HIM!” Lance chuckled.

“Yeah I know,” you said running your hands over your stomach. “Well at least we know what we don’t want. No Brayden, Aiden, Grayson or Mason.”

“Yeah, not happening. Hey Starfish, what do you think we should name your brother?” Lance called out to Ariel who was playing with her dolls.

In one hand was Teddy and the other was Stuffy, the blue dragon from  _Doc McStuffins_. Her growing brain mulled over the decision of names between the two stuffed animals. “Stuffy!” she cried out.

“Stuffy Tucker?” Lance questioned.

“Well, maybe if he has allergies,” you joked. “Sweetie what’s the name of the police dog on  _PAW Patrol_?” It took a while for you and Ariel to think of the name until it finally hit you. “Chase! Lance, what about Chase?”

“Hmmm,” Lance mused out loud, “It’s a maybe.”

You quickly reached your destination, bringing Ariel for her first visit to Weeki Wachee. She had no idea what was happening until the “mermaids” swam in and Ariel gasped out loud, crying out “Mermaid!”

She was watching them in the same awe struck manner as you once did, pointing towards the viewing window as the mermaids swam by with a large smile plastered on her face.

Next you went to the wildlife show, with Lance having to hold Ariel tight in his lap as she kept wanting to pet all the animals. Your anxiety increased as the teenage employee kept bringing out progressively larger snakes until he finally showed off a small alligator.

Now that you were a mom you tried to find the balance between allowing Ariel the freedom to grow up while still being nurturing and protective. Right now you were going to be protective,  _extremely_ protective and used this opportunity to remind Ariel that these animals are not pets. Blowing out a harsh breath you wondered if you caused your own parents as much worry.

After the show you sat at a picnic table for a snack, giving Ariel a sippy cup of milk and plating some Cheerios and string cheese along with a mandarin orange that you shared with her. Lance made sure you ate more than just that, pulling out carrot sticks and a granola bar from the bag along with some water. Smiling you leaned forward to kiss him in return for his thoughtfulness.

You were taking a lot of precaution as the risk of another premature birth was always there. Lance was a big help, staying home more often to allow you more time to rest. Your workload lightened as well. You were still able to Skype with athletes for your articles but travel was out of the question. You were thankful having prepared a lot in advance to release during your maternity leave.

After eating you took Ariel on the boat ride, she sat in between you and Lance as she excitedly pointed out every fish, turtle and bird that you passed. When the ride was over you asked the driver to take your photo, the three of you saying “cheese” in unison, though Ariel screamed the word, which echoed off the roof of the boat.

Finally, you were headed to Tucker Gymnastics and Ariel was bubbling with anticipation. Lance had gone into his office, you suspect to check in on calls and emails while he waited for his girls. After a quick trip to the bathroom for both you and Ariel, you changed her into a shimmery purple leotard.

Lance’s door was still shut so you picked barefoot Ariel up carefully and walked her over to the photo of young Lance and Dorothy.

“This is your Daddy as a kid!” you said, pointing to him in the picture. “And this is your Grandma Dorothy. She is Daddy’s mommy.”

“Where is Gamma Dowthy?” Ariel innocently asked.

“Grandma Dorothy is everywhere. When the sun warms up the day that’s Grandma Dorothy giving you a big warm hug, and when the moon is out at night she’s looking over and watching you sleep.”

Though she’s too young to truly understand you wanted her to know Dorothy and one day when she’s older you know Lance will have her read your article. He still considers it one of the greatest gifts you’ve ever given him, though nothing compares to the love you show him every day, and the family you’ve made together.

Lance pulled open the door to his office, stepping out with a serious look on his face. He tightened a red bandana wrapped around his head and clapped his hands together, “Let’s do this!”

Reaching into his pocket he walked over to Ariel, pulling out a smaller bandana for her to match him. Ariel leaned towards Lance who took her from your arms and you followed them into the main gym area. Lance leaned down in front of his antsy little girl who would not sit still as he gathered her hair together to tie it up and tie the bandana on her.

Once she was ready Lance put his palm up, “Let’s go for the gold!”

Ariel slapped his hand, “Go faw gold!”

Lance started slow, easing her into tumbles. “Squat like a frog,” he said, adjusting her hands and feet, “Now stick your tushie in the air and look at your belly button.”

Ariel giggled at the way Lance taught her but he guided her through the movement, assuring her head was placed properly for her to roll through. Lance made it a fun as she repeated the motions until she got it before moving on to a backwards roll. She was definitely Lance’s kid as she completed a backwards roll much more gracefully than you ever could.

With your phone in hand you took a bunch of photos and videos, all of which you knew you would have to send your parents. Even though they would be coming over later for cake and presents they insisted on having their own copy of every picture of their granddaughter.

Lance worked on some poses, teaching her how to do a bridge. Soon she was in a downward dog position in front of the wall. Lance told her to keep her arms strong as he braced one hand on her arms and the other under her stomach for support.

“Walk your feet up the walls,” he said, as her little feet staggered asymmetrically up the wall. “You’re doing great Starfish!”

It wasn’t quite a handstand, not yet at least but you know with Lance’s guidance she would get there one day, just as you did.

Afterwards Lance whispered something in Ariel’s ear that made her jump up and down. Lance carried Ariel to the balance beam that was closest to the ground, placing her down and standing behind her as he cupped his hands around his mouth as he announced, “The US Women’s Gymnastics Team proudly presents ARIEL TUCKER!”

You pleaded for him to wait so you could record this. When you were ready Lance lifted Ariel onto the beam, holding her hands as she walked across it, stopping midway as he told her to jump up. As Ariel jumped Lance lifted her up high over his head before placing her gently down on the beam again. She walked to the end of the beam, jumping off and Lance carried her over to the uneven bars.

Lance gripped her waist as he held her up instructing her to hold on to the lower bar. He swayed her body from side to side, all while providing commentary on how the young gymnast has skillfully mastered the uneven bars. Next was the pommel horse, where Lance held her up and she wasn’t sure quite what to do. Lance began to tickle her stomach and so she burst into a fit of giggles, her little feet stomping up and down which made it look like she was dancing.

“And for her final challenge, the vault!” his voice boomed.

Ariel clung to Lance as he stood midway in the runway. He jogged lightly, dodging the vault and jumping into the foam block pit behind it.

“Ariel Tucker wins the gold!” Lance cheered, kissing Ariel on the cheek. She nuzzled into the crook of his neck, stretching her arms around him and you were so happy to have recorded that moment.

Lance placed Ariel on the mat’s as he pulled himself out of the pit, scooping her into his arms again to head back to his office. He opened the small refrigerator that was stocked up on juices boxes and snacks for Ariel. She sat in his chair, swinging her dangling legs around as she sipped from an apple juice box.

“Here,” he said, grabbing a water bottle for you and pulling out a packet of almonds from his desk. “Come on babe, you know you want my nuts.”

“Lance!” you yelled in a whispered voice.

“What? It’s protein,” he laughed, opening the packet and tossing a few almonds into his mouth before handing it to you so he could untie his bandana.

You shook your head at him all while smiling and Lance leaned closer to rub the tip of his nose against yours, your face scrunching in return at the contact.

“I love you so much Lance,” you said, tilting your head to press a kiss to his lips.

Lance pulled away quickly and replied, “Jim?”

You squinted at him in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“Jim for gymnastics. We could name him James. James Tucker,” Lance worked through his reasoning out loud.

“Definitely not Jim. James is a maybe, but next time could you not blurt that out after I declare my love and kiss you,” you chuckled.

Lance cupped your cheeks in his hands and leaned in to kiss you more sincerely, pulling away from each other before things got too steamy. “Better?” he said and you hummed in reply.

After arriving home you put Ariel down for a short nap.

“Teddy!” she cried out. You caught Lance before he got in the shower, asking him to bring up the doll that was left in the car.

With Teddy by her side you tucked Ariel in and went downstairs to begin baking her birthday cake. Passing the photos that hung on the walls you stopped to smile at each one, pausing at Dorothy’s photo wishing she was here to see her grandchildren.

Lance came downstairs, standing behind you as you measured flour into a large mixing bowl, pressing a kiss to your neck which made you squirm with delight.

“Look at this,” you said, reaching your arms out in front of you as Lance moved beside you, “I feel like I’m so far away from the counter,” you laughed as you gestured to your large belly that kept you back from the countertop.

“Just a few more months,” Lance said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

You continued to prepare the ingredients, placing them in the mixer and setting it. You saw Lance was attempting to say something but you couldn’t hear him over the sound. Once everything was done you smiled and he repeated himself.

“I asked if you should really be on your feet, Y/N. You have to take it easy,” he said, bringing over a stool.

You looked warily at the seat, “I think I might break it,” you half joked and Lance shook his head.

Instead of getting on the stool you took Lance’s hand in yours, “Lance, I have an idea for a name,” you said softly.

Lance waited for you to continue, rubbing his thumb along your hand.

“What about Theodore? For your Mom,” you suggested, looking up at him with hopeful eyes as you waited for his response.

Lance’s lips curved into a bittersweet smile, once again you found the perfect way to honor Dorothy.

His palm caressed the swell of your belly, “I love it Y/N, I love you, I love you so much,” he whispered before capturing your lips in a sweet kiss.

“I love you too Lance.”

***

The night was filled with laughter as Ariel ran around with your parents, opened up her presents and ended up with frosting all over her face.

Lance picked her up in his arms, laughing as she leaned forward to place a sticky kiss to your cheek. Your parents snapped the perfect photo with all three of you laughing widely. You wiped Ariel’s face and then cleaned your own, tucking yourself under Lance’s other arm for another picture.

The life you imagined with Lance had gone off track for a bit but you were thankful everyday for being given the opportunity to come back to each other. Lance stood proudly, with one arm wrapped around you, his little girl clinging to his other side like a starfish on a rock.

The Olympics were a distant memory, fading away as Lance finally achieved his greatest accomplishment and was rewarded with gold every day in the form of the love he shared with his family. 


End file.
